Seven Nights
by pattyrose
Summary: What starts out as a relaxing, seven-night Caribbean cruise with her friends and boyfriend turns out to be much more than Isabella Swan bargained for. That is, once Edward Masen boards the ship.
1. Chapter 1

**A**/**N: This happened on the drive from Orlando to Miami to catch our cruise. will try to update at the next port. ;)**

**Characters belong to S. Meyer. Story and all mistakes belong to me.**

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**Seven Days - Chapter 1: Day 1**

It happens on the second night of the cruise.

_It_ happens.

I suppose my mind phrases it this way - _It_ _happens_ \- because some part of me knew _it_ was bound to happen, regardless of the eye roll and shrug combo I gave Leah when she said,

"Man, he sure looks at you a lot. Let's hope Quil doesn't notice."

I hadn't even bothered to raise my head or remove my shades to confirm her observation because yeah, I'd caught him looking more than once. Instead, I'd snorted.

"Please. Quil's more likely to notice if the guy eyes his beer bucket too hard."

"True."

She said this as we'd all been lounging on Lido deck around the pool on 'Day 1 - early afternoon' after embarkation and during the Sail-away Party. We'd met on line - on an actual line to board the cruise ship not a cyberspace line - his group of friends and my group of friends. Forty-five minutes later, we boarded as one large group.

Despite her quick agreement and ensuing cackles at my expense, I forewent pointing out the fact that the statement ran true as fuck in her case as well. Jake was so wasted, if he moved any closer to the railing he'd definitely topple over.

Good fucking riddance. Fuck him and his buddy Quil. And fuck Leah too. Fuck. Them. All.

I was on a cruise ship leaving the tropical Port of Miami and bound for all the more tropical and hotter places. I was lounging on a deck chair with the Florida sun kissing every last bit of exposed skin - and considering the size of my bikini, that was a lot of exposed skin. The Afro-Latin beats of all those wonderful places whose ports we'd be visiting this week resounded in my ears. Best of all, I was throbbing in all the right places and disguising my squirming by pretending I was dancing in my chair.

Even as I heard _him _laughing and joking with the rest of our group, his eyes...his thoughts...his imagination was on me just as mine was on him.

Leah could've laughed until she passed out.

And yeah, had Quil not boarded the ship already three sheets to the wind, courtesy of our long-ass flight from Washington, he may have noticed _him_ looking. What's more, had it remained furtive glances and wild imaginations, it may have even been the relaxing seven-night cruise I'd needed...for a while now.

Instead, it...he...we..._Edward _happens on Day 2 of the cruise.

At that point, _relaxing_ becomes the furthest thing from my mind.

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**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Will try to update at the next port. :)**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts?**

**So sorry for the delay in posting the next chapter of this short story, but I was on vacation, and while I initially thought I'd get a chance to write, it didn't work out that way, lol.**

**Anyway, I'm back, and between catching up with everything, work, and getting the kiddies ready for a new school years, things have been crazy.**

**But here we go! Chapter 2. I'll try to post the next one quickly. ;)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine. All mistakes are mine.**

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**Seven Nights – Chapter 2**

I don't, have never…_had_ never cheated.

My parents are happily married – well, happily except for Mom's health, but that's a different issue altogether. As far as I know, neither has ever cheated on the other. Neither set of grandparents ever cheated either; again, as far as I know. Aunts, uncles, and cousins, I can't vouch for.

The point is, I didn't grow up around a culture of cheating.

I'm not a cheater, which is why, regardless of how disillusioned with Quil I've grown, the way I become one shocks the hell out of me.

Quil's easygoing nature is one of the things I once enjoyed about him. We met senior year of college, at the University of Washington. He and Jake were always the life of the party. But we've been out of college for over a year now, leading grownup lives with grownup jobs, yet the college frat boy mindset remains. That's our main problem because at some point, you've got to start taking something…someone seriously.

Don't you?

I'm starting to think Quil might be incapable.

Anyway, perhaps all that is just an excuse because _this_ is how easily it happens.

**Day 2 – Day At Sea: The Morning**

I jerk out of Quil's arms and shove off his wandering hands.

"Quil, you've got to be joking me. Get off."

Quil chuckles, unfazed. Throwing back the covers, I sit on the bed.

"Bella, get back here so we can start the day off right."

I ignore him while I yank open drawers in the minuscule nightstand on my side of the bed, rummaging in the dark.

"Come on, baby. Don't be that way. We're on a cruise! Haven't you heard? Fucking is all you're supposed to do on a cruise."

His speech is slurred. I snort in disgust.

"Quil, if you think I'm in the mood to fuck when you just stumbled into the room, and after the shit you pulled last night, you're not only drunk, you're delirious. What's more, you smell like a rat who drowned in a bar."

He chuckles. "The guys and I were just walking around the ship, exploring. Those other guys we met yesterday, Edward and them – remember them?"

Oh yeah, I remember.

"Vaguely," I lie.

I never said I wasn't a liar before this cruise, just not a cheater.

"We hung out with them for a bit, but then the dudes turned out to be lightweights," he continues. "By the time the welcome aboard party ended, those assholes were nowhere to be found. Jake and I were the last two there."

"I'm overflowing with pride." Sitting at the edge of the bed, I pull off my pajama tank, but Quil is either too wasted or too stupid to notice I'm sitting naked, in the dark, less than a foot from him.

"Bella, why are you so pissed off this morning?"

"If you don't remember," I say as I pull a bikini top over my head, "I'm not about to waste my time trying to enlighten you. I've got better things to do." I slip on a pair of bikini bottoms. "Though if you must know, ask almost anyone else who was up on deck for the party last night. They all witnessed your drunken assholery."

He breaks into raucous laughter. "Bella, we were _all_ acting like drunk assholes last night."

"Correction: you, Jake and Leah were acting like drunk assholes. The rest of us were having fun."

"We were all having _fun_!" he stresses. "I still don't get why you left."

"I know you don't. You don't get a lot of things. That's the problem."

His drunken laughter continues as I lock the bathroom door behind me and brush my teeth.

"Bella, tell me what I did!"

I wash my face, quickly pull back my hair and tie it on top of my head. A quick inspection in the mirror reveals that my new two-piece reveals…a bit. But hey, I'm on a Caribbean cruise.

When I emerge, I find the fucker snoring. Slipping my feet into slides and throwing on a mesh cover-up, I toss sunscreen, towel, water bottle, and headphones into a beach bag, and set for the foreseeable future, I pull my room key card from its holder.

"Try not to choke on your own vomit," I suggest as I leave Quil to sleep off his hangover.

OOOOO

I'm not impressed with either my ridiculously small cabin nor with the long, narrow, and maze-like hallway I've got to traverse to get to the elevators. The main pool is up on Lido Deck – Deck 14 – seven floors above me. It's the same place we all spent yesterday afternoon and evening, up until Quil embarrassed the shit out of me, and I left.

Once I reach Deck 14 from my inside cabin all the way down on Deck 7, a quick scan of the interactive map by the elevators reminds me where exactly the pool is in relation to where I'm standing. A bit nauseous from last night's drinking, I bypass the huge and crowded breakfast buffet area. It's already in full swing with the scent of eggs, bacon, pastries and a thousand other fast-breaking foods wafting in the air and mixing with the ocean breeze.

When I locate the main pool, I hold a hand up to my forehead like a makeshift visor because I forgot my sunglasses in the room and there's no fucking way I'm going back for them.

Nonetheless, the view before me is breathtaking and completely makes up for the shitty cabin and the dark, maze-like hallway. Beyond the pristine and open layout of the top deck, an amalgamation of people in all shapes, colors, ages, sizes, and from all walks of life laugh, drink, talk, and enjoy the hell out of the morning. They dive in and out of the pool. They worship the sun god from their deck chairs. They carry around plates of food and cocktail glasses like offerings to said god, while the well-dressed waitstaff walk around ready to fulfill any and all wishes of us semi-gods. There are bars on every corner of the pool area, and a sense of laid-back relaxation, relief, and reckless joy permeates everything. Cerulean skies meld with indigo Caribbean waters to the point where it's almost impossible to distinguish where one ends and the other begins. All the while, Bob Marley's smoothly seductive voice resounds over the speakers.

And it's _hot _up here_._

"Holy crap, I've found Heaven," I breathe.

Despite Quil's epic douche-baggery of the previous evening, a huge grin spreads across my face. However, it's doused when I realize that every deck chair in sight is claimed by either a half-naked body or a spread-out towel holding someone's spot.

"Fucking hell," I expel in irritation.

"Which is it? Heaven or hell?" someone murmurs really close to my ear.

Fine, fine; I'll call bullshit on myself because as I turn around, I know exactly who's standing so, so close. Apart from Quil, it's likely the last person on this mega-ship I wanted to run into this morning; at least, not before I've gathered liquid courage.

It's not that I don't _want_ to see him. In fact, if possible, the golden light of early morning does more for him than did last night's moonlight. Peachy rays highlight the copper strands in his hair; the sunlight brings out golden flecks in his sea-green eyes; his broad grin displays perfectly white teeth and an angular jaw. Even in my periphery, those broad shoulders and that bare chest I'm trying my damnedest not to ogle – probably as hard as I know he's trying not to check out my flimsily-covered breasts – completely steal the show away from the scenery I was just admiring.

What's more, just like when he and I danced together for a half minute or so last night, right up on this deck before Quil ruined everything, his proximity awakens nerves in places in my body I wasn't even aware I possessed.

And I know…I can tell even by the way he looks at me now that I do something similar to his system. So, it's not that I don't _want_ to see him; it's more that he's a hazard to my goal of uncomplicated relaxation throughout this cruise.

Edward straightens and pulls back enough to offer me a grin. "Good morning."

I quirk an eyebrow and rest a hand on my hip. "How long have you been standing behind me?"

He opens his mouth to say something, but then quickly changes his mind and smiles instead. When he does speak, it's not an answer to my question.

"Where's your group?"

"One is sleeping off a hangover, and the other two hung a 'Do not Disturb' sign on their door, which was further confirmed by the sounds seeping through."

Edward snorts. "That's what couples usually do on cruises."

He waits.

"Is it? That wasn't in the brochure."

He chuckles, a low, deep chuckle that prickles my skin in the most...pleasant way.

"It tends to be _instinctive_," he stresses with a slight nod of his head. "You shouldn't have to be told." He holds my gaze, then jerks his angular jaw to the side. "Come on. We were holding chairs for you guys."

Scarlet 'HAZARD' signs flash in my mind, but he said 'we' and 'for you guys.'

"Lead the way," I smile.

Yet, he guides me with a hand on the small of my bare back, and I draw in a long breath as quietly as I can manage while recalling the feel of those hands on my hips during our all-too-brief dance last night.

"I'm glad to see _you're_ not hung over," he says as we make our way through the jam-packed pool area. He leans in again to speak because like I said, it's jam-packed and loud and Bob Marley is wondering '_Is this love, is this love, is this love that I'm feeling?'_

No, Bob; I wouldn't call it 'love.' And the noise level isn't why Edward leans in so close that I can see those golden specks dancing in his eyes, so close I feel his warm breath on my neck. Warm breath, yet it makes me shiver. The noise level isn't why Edward's thumb strokes my back. His eyes betray him for a second and stray past my neck, trail to my hips. He swallows and meets my eyes again.

"If you'll recall," I smirk, "I didn't get a chance to hang around long enough last night to experience a hangover this morning."

He nods, gaze straight ahead now. Apart from me, he knows more than anyone what happened.

"You didn't have to leave," he says quietly, then meets my eyes again. "You could've stayed and hung out with…us."

"Not after that mortifying scene Quil made."

He shakes his head, twists his lips in disgust. "Hey, it wasn't you," he says in a hard voice. "You had no reason to be mortified."

"Didn't I?" I snort and stop walking. He stops too, but his hand remains on the small of my back. So we stand there, our eyes locked on one another, while the ship parties around us. He opens his mouth.

"Hey, Bella! You're here!"

The voice seems to break us out of the mutual spell. Edward's hand falls away, and he takes a step back. Meanwhile, I paste on a smile as I turn to the gorgeous woman in a two-piece gold swimsuit so itty-bitty yet stunning that I'm left feeling like I'm dressed for the arctic.

"Hi, Irina."

"I'm glad Edward found you," she says and looks behind me. "Where's your boyfriend?"

"Still sleeping."

"And Leah and Jake?"

"It's just me this morning." I smile.

"Oh. Well, I'm not surprised," she chuckles. "You and your friends can really party. I thought _we_ were bad. Right, Edward?" she exclaims as she wraps an arm around Edward's arm. He offers no answer to her question nor a reaction of any sort to the way she tends to claim him.

But his gaze remains on me.

"Yes. I heard he out-partied you all," I say, eyes back on Edward.

"That's right. You left a bit earlier than your friends did, after your boyfriend-" She cuts herself off, and I catch Edward shoot her a hard look.

"Anyway," she smiles, "come on. We've all got prime real estate right by the pool, and we've been holding chairs for you guys."

With her arm still around Edward's, she pulls him so that I'm meant to follow behind, but Edward stands his ground.

"After you two."

"Sorry, Bella," Irina chuckles guiltily, dropping Edward's arm. "I didn't mean to leave you back there."

Yes, you did.

"Oh, no problem."

As Irina walks beside me, chatting away, and Edward remains behind, I know his eyes are on _me_. And it's these mixed signals which make me wonder:

Is Irina Edward's girlfriend, or isn't she?

Furthermore, when I _know_ what's going to eventually happen, what do I care?

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**A/N: Thoughts?**

**I'll try to update soon. Updates to Broken and Uprising will also (hopefully) be coming soon. **

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. So sorry it's taken me so long to update. Between the kiddos and work, I've been swamped. But with the summer winding down, and the weather getting cooler, let's see if we can close our eyes, take a deep breath, and make summer last a little longer by pretending we're ALL on a Caribbean cruise. ;)**

**So, to help with that, here's a looong chapter to what's supposed to be a short story. Hope it makes up a bit for the wait. ;)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.**

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**Day 2: Day at Sea – The Afternoon**

Edward, his friends, and I spend the rest of the morning hanging out by the Lido pool.

Edward's group is larger than my party of four. It consists of his older brother, Emmett, and Emmett's husband, Garrett, who are both super chill and friendly. There's Edward's best friend, Pete, and Pete's wife, Charlotte, who are also great. Then there's Eli and Carmen. They're nice too, though Carmen is somewhat aloof with me. Finally, there's Irina.

A couple of hours into the morning, Irina's exact designation still eludes me. There are signs in either direction, yet nothing decisive. Though, perhaps the even pairings should speak for themselves?

Either way, as the morning grows progressively hotter, we shed every possible excess layer and become better acquainted.

Not _that_ way, no.

We order drinks and beers from the comfort of our deck chairs or from the pool's ledge, which we jump into periodically to splash around. A Caribbean band wearing colorful _Guayavera_ button down shirts and white linen slacks plays the steel drums, their playful, upbeat tempo blasting through the cruise ship's massive speakers. We laugh at the various pool games orchestrated by the entertainment staff.

At one point, while we lounge on our deck chairs, a woman in about her mid-twenties approaches Edward. She's got a clipboard in hand, and like the rest of the entertainment staff, she looks fun yet professional in her dark Bermuda shorts, crisp white polo, and white sneakers. Her name tag reads, 'Jessica: Liverpool, England.'

"Cheers, love," she grins broadly. "We're holding our Hottest Guy on Lido Deck Contest in about three-quarters of an hour. How's about you give it a go?"

Edward grins sheepishly in return. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"You're beyond good; you're bloody brilliant!" she exclaims. "Which is why you'd be smashing in the contest."

"Here we go," Pete snickers, rolling his eyes.

"This happens every cruise," Charlotte chuckles.

"Does it?" I grin in amusement.

"Yeah, cuz he's such a hottie," Garrett teases.

"I swear, Ed, if you weren't my brother," Emmett jokes, "I'd go for you myself."

I laugh at their ribbing, even harder when Edward shoots them a dark scowl.

"Like I said," he repeats, smiling tightly at Jessica, "I'm good. But thanks."

"You sure, love?" Jessica persists. "Because I can promise you everyone on this deck will be horribly gutted if you don't join the contest."

"Come on, Edward," Irina says. "Make me proud."

Edward's eyes narrow, and his mouth stretches into a tight line. But is it because Irina is insisting or because she said, 'Make _me_ proud?' I don't know, and either way, I can't really blame her or anyone for insisting. The water droplets drying on Edward's tattooed back and on his washboard abs glisten like diamonds. They cling to his spiky, copper hair and to the darker stubble on his angular jaw. He's got a smattering of freckles that run in a path from one broad shoulder to a birthmark on his nape and then trails to the other broad shoulder. Like a connect-the-dots, the path begs to be traced, and obviously, I'm not the only one who's noticed these things.

Edward finally convinces Jessica that he's not interested in becoming this sailing's _official_ Hottest Guy on Lido Deck, and as she shuffles away with a disappointed sigh, he calls out,

"But you can come get my brother, Emmett, later for the Belly-Flop contest!"

"Hell yeah, you can!" Emmett howls.

OOOOO

A short while later, we're all in the pool again, while the band takes a well-deserved break, and instead, Jimmy Buffett croons lazily through the loudspeaker about being wasted in Margaritaville. Now, while I'm nowhere near wasted nor in Margaritaville, I _am_ feeling super relaxed, which was the whole point of this cruise. Also, I've managed to almost put Quil and the epic douche-baggery he pulled off last night behind me.

"You need sunglasses." Edward sidles up beside me. "We're in the tropics _and_ in the middle of the ocean."

Angling myself toward him, I use my hand as a makeshift visor, squinting and making a concerted effort to avert my gaze from those distracting, glistening droplets.

"See? You keep squinting," he grins, "and it's not good for those baby browns."

I chuckle. "There's nothing tropical about where I come from, which leaves us with little use for sunglasses. So, when I leave a place in a hurry like I left my cabin this morning…"

I trail off, embarrassed by the reminder I've just given myself. After all, Edward was there. Looking away from him, I pin my gaze to the pool water between us.

For a handful of seconds, Edward remains still and silent. Something slips past my temples, and I look up as he adjusts his shades over my eyes. He balances the glasses' arms around my ears, his fingers lingering…thumbs stroking my cartilage. And really, something so stupidly simple shouldn't send a flash of heat surging through me.

"_Some people claim that there's a woman to blame_," Buffett sings in the background, _"but I know it's nobody's fault."_

Edward pulls away. "They look good on you," he says, nodding his approval.

"Thanks." I smile. "Hey, these _are_ nice. You might not get them back."

"I'll live," he grins. "Besides, I'd enjoy knowing-"

"That's fine, Bella. He brought along a spare pair I got him for his birthday."

Irina and Carmen abruptly - or perhaps not so abruptly - pop up at Edward's side.

"Where we live, we do need to keep more than one pair of sunglasses around. So, you can just go ahead and keep those if you'd like," Irina continues, laying a hand on Edward's glistening bicep and smiling up at him. "That is, if _you_ don't mind her keeping them, Edward."

Edward smirks. "Like I said, I'll live."

"I was just joking, anyhow. I won't keep them." I offer him a wry grin as I crouch under the bridge created by Irina clinging to his bicep. When I emerge on the other side, I look over my shoulder at Irina. "But I _will_ borrow them."

OOOOO

By early afternoon, Quil, Jake, and Leah still haven't made an appearance.

Which is fine. I've grown pretty comfortable with this new group – well, with most of them. When stomachs begin to rumble, we women throw on cover-ups, the guys throw on shirts, and we leave the pool games behind in favor of the buffet. It's on the same deck, mid-ship, so we leave our towels on the deck chairs to hold our places.

"But the daily itinerary sheets and the on-line brochure both say that holding deck chairs all day with towels is against ship rules," I say as Emmett and I walk side by side.

"Not so much against ship rules as highly frowned upon," he nods, offering me a mischievous grin. He's got Edward's grin and eyes, but he's overtly brawny where Edward is athletically built. And Emmett is darker in features. "But they don't enforce it."

"Bella's all about the brochure, Em." Edward falls in step at my other side. "If it's not in there, she's not doing it."

He looks at me, and I know he's referring to his earlier comment on couples coupling on ship.

I quirk an eyebrow. "I wouldn't say that."

Edward holds my gaze.

"Ahh, so you're not a rule-breaker," Emmett teases, pulling my attention back to him.

Garrett, who's at Emmett's other side, taunts me further. "You can't stick with us then, kid. Em and I are rebels by definition. As a mixed-race, same-sex couple, we're breaking all the fucking rules."

I chuckle heartily. "Love is love is love, right?"

"Damn right. And a little lust thrown in there for good measure." Emmett winks at me.

"I've been known to break a few rules here and there. Don't count me out just yet," I say, and as I do, I glance at Edward.

His eyes are already…are _still_ on me.

OOOOO

"Tempted by anything?"

I turn sideways and find Edward leaning over my shoulder.

I'd been in the middle of visually inspecting my choices at the crowded buffet. They're dauntingly extensive, to say the least. There's a barbecue station, followed by a pasta station, a pizza station, a salad station, a soup station, a carving station. Then there's Mexican, Indian, British, American, Asian, etc.

Nevertheless, that's not what Edward's asking – not really – and by this point, he knows the answer, and he knows I know he knows. Now, we're just testing the waters…circling one another like sharks in the middle of the Caribbean.

"A bit tempted. But for now, I'll stick to the Charcuterie station."

He offers me a slow grin worthy of a Cheshire cat. "Sounds good."

We fill our trays with an assortment of cured meats: chorizos, Spanish hams, pancetta, prosciutto. Tiny toasts made from a variety of breads offer a crispy accompaniment, as do a selection of olives and cheeses. When Edward and I are done picking and choosing, we locate the rest of our group by following the loudest voices and laughter. They're through the sliding doors, at an outside, umbrella-covered table, where the ocean's breeze whips up Irina's golden head of hair.

When they spot us, they wave us over - all except Irina and Carmen, whose heads are close together, whispering furiously.

As soon as we reach the table, Edward sets his tray next to mine and drops his mouth close to my ear. He hovers there for a second before speaking.

"I'll get our drinks. What would you like?"

"A beer and a water?"

"Sounds good." He offers me a smile and a nod before walking toward the drink station. My eyes follow him, and when my gaze pans back to the table's occupants, I catch the glare Irina is shooting me. She quickly wipes her expression blank before smiling and turning away.

OOOOO

"All right, trivia is in fifteen minutes," Edward says. We've all finished eating and are just bullshitting at the table, while tiny droplets of ocean water sprint over the railing and help keep us cool. "Who's down to go?"

The question is met by a chorus of groans.

"What's that about?" I snort.

"Edward tries to interrupt our fun every cruise by begging for a partner to join him at the ship's trivia games," Charlotte says. "But the poor guy never succeeds."

Pete reaches across the table and pats Edward's shoulder.

"Sorry, buddy. Looks like you're on your own."

"Yet again," Eli adds with a snicker.

"Seriously," Carmen says. "Trivia over pool time in the Caribbean? Stop asking. It's never gonna happen."

"Edward, honey, it's nothing personal, but who would waste their time on indoor trivia games when the weather's so beautiful?" Irina asks this with a sweet, ultra-apologetic smile.

"Whatever," Edward says, waving them all off. "I'll just go by my-"

When I raise a hand, all eyes turn to me. "I like trivia," I say with a shrug. "My mom and I have always enjoyed solving the Sunday crosswords together."

"The Sunday crosswords?" Irina echoes, as if I've just uttered a foreign phrase.

"Yeah. Are the ship's trivia games anything like that?"

"No," Irina replies.

"Sort of, but not exactly." Edward shoots Irina a frown as he expands on the reply. "They're actually contests held in one of the ship's lounges and run by the entertainment staff. They distribute paper and pencil to teams or to _individuals_ who can't find a decent friend to accompany them." The comment receives more snickers, which he ignores. "Then the staff member calls out a series of trivia questions, and at the end, the team or individual with the most correct answers wins a prize."

"What's the prize?" I ask excitedly. "A free cruise?"

"The prize is a shit on a stick," Carmen giggles.

"It's actually a _ship_ on a stick - a plastic trophy in the shape of a cruise ship." Edward offers me a sheepish grin. "But it's not about the prize. It's just for kicks."

"Where 'kicks' is a relative term," Eli says.

"Do the questions follow a theme?" I ask.

"Sometimes. Sometimes they're random."

"Like Edward's knowledge," Emmett snickers.

"Fuck you," Edward retorts.

We all laugh, including Edward.

"I'll go," I say.

The table stops laughing. Edward's eyebrows climb high on his forehead, and the eyes below them grow impossibly greener.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I enjoy crosswords. So, if they're anything like that, it sounds like fun."

"They're…close enough to that," he grins crookedly. And just like that, once again, we're locked in one another's gaze.

"You know what, Irina?" Carmen says. "Getting some trivia kicks while getting out of the sun for a bit might be a good idea after all. Why don't we go too?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we'll go too," Irina says, her eyes on me. She offers me one of her way-too-saccharine smiles, which I return in kind.

OOOOO

Bouncy Brit Jessica awaits the Afternoon Trivia contestants in the center of the fifth floor Schooner Lounge, a nautically-themed bar lounge just off of the five-story, glass-enclosed atrium, which Edward informs me is the hub of much of the ship's indoor entertainment. There are more bars here as well as the ship's various shops and services.

When Jessica spots Edward, she bounces on her white sneakers, grinning beatifically at him as he picks up our team's answer sheet and pencil from on top of the baby grand piano beside her.

"Fancy meeting you here, love. So, you're more the sort of bloke who knows his onions, then?"

"We'll see," Edward says, grinning as he walks back to us. The four of us take seats on swivel pleather stools around a small, round glass table.

"That's ace," she replies. "Blimey. Seriously, ace," she mouths to his retreating form, blinking and clearing her throat. "I do hope to see you 'round _all_ my activities then, love."

I chuckle as he takes his seat, and Jessica clears her throat once more.

"Right then. Once you've all gotten yourselves sorted, we'll begin this afternoon's trivia, which will have a _Broadway_ _Musicals_ theme."

"Ugh." Carmen throws her back against the chair in frustration. "I don't know jack about Broadway musicals. Do you, Irina?"

"What am I, eighty?" Irina retorts. "Why the hell would I know about them?"

"Uhm, Broadway musicals aren't exclusively for older people," I inform her. "My mom took me to New York City once, for a long weekend, and we attended a couple of Broadway musicals."

"That's a couple more Broadway musicals than I've ever attended, Bella," Edward smiles. "But I produce beats for a living, so if today's trivia is more music and production-related rather than history or dates-related, I might not completely embarrass you."

"I'm sure you won't embarrass me," I smile.

He offers me a wink, and when my ridiculous heart reboots, I clear my throat. "So, what exactly does a beats producer-"

"Two musicals notwithstanding, Bella," Irina says, "living in some small, remote Northwest corner with your folks and giving tours of the town you live in likely doesn't make you an expert on musicals, right?" She offers me another one of her sugary smiles. "Not that there's anything wrong with small towns," she chuckles, "but at least in Miami, we've got culture."

In my periphery, I see Edward's nostrils flare, but before he can say anything to his – what, girlfriend? fuck buddy? – I match that phony smile.

"Well, you see, Irina, there are these things called televisions and radios, and this other thing called the internet, and you can access them through electronic machines called computers and cell phones. They transmit information on just about everything in the world. So, even when I'm stuck in that remote little town, I can pretty much keep myself from turning into an uncultured yet overbearing dickhead."

Carmen throws back her head and laughs. "I'm sorry, Irina, but that was a good one."

For an almost imperceptible moment, Irina's blue eyes flash with indignation before she recovers and smiles fluidly. "Bella, I was just joking with you; you know that, right? I hope you didn't take me seriously."

"Of course, I didn't take you seriously, Irina," I reply just as smoothly. "Of course not. I was just joking too."

When the trivia questions begin, as much shit as these two talked, their contributions stray little beyond,

"Fuck, if I know that one," and

"How the hell is anyone supposed to know that one?"

In the end, our 'team' manages ten out of fifteen questions correct. Unfortunately for us, the winning team ends up with fourteen out of fifteen correct, and with a ship on a stick trophy.

"That wasn't bad," Edward says as we're leaving the lounge.

"I kinda thought we sucked," I say.

"Not at all. In fact..." - when Edward stops and faces me, I stop too and only vaguely note the other two women flanking our sides - "I think I might've finally acquired a decent trivia buddy."

"_Decent trivia buddy_, huh?" I smirk, taking a step closer to him. "In case you didn't notice, you would've been lost if it wasn't for me being here."

He chuckles, smiling softly when the amusement fades. "Oh, I've noticed, Bella. Trust me; I've noticed."

OOOOO

_"I look and stare so deep in your eyes.  
I touch on you more and more every time..."_

Late afternoon, I'm singing along with Queen B, while we're back to lounging up by the Lido pool.

"It's as if we're kings and queens, with the way the ship caters to all our whims, isn't it?"

I point this out while swirling the little red stick in my first ever Brazilian _Caipirinha_. Edward suggested it after noting my preference for mojitos. It's apparently made with a Brazilian liquor called _Cachaca_ as opposed to rum, and I'm officially in love.

With the Brazilian liquor.

"When I walked into my cabin last night, the cabin steward had cleaned up for the _second time_ that day." I say this with all the wonder of someone who's on her first cruise and on her third cocktail of the hour. "He'd turned down the bedsheets, turned on the lamps, and even left a bath towel in the shape of a swan on top of the bed."

"A Swan, huh?" Edward says. "Fitting. A swan for a swan."

He's on the chair to my left, angled toward me, sitting with his legs spread apart, his forearms resting on his thighs, beer in hand, and no longer even trying to pretend his attention isn't all on me. Those broad shoulders are sun-kissed, the freckles darker. The apples of his cheekbones have acquired an attractive shade of pink which make the green in his eyes stand out breathtakingly. Every time I meet them, they're already on me. Between his comments, his attention, and my cocktails, I'm feeling wonderful.

So, I reply in the same flirty manner, because come on; Irina is _so_ _not_ his girlfriend.

"You know my first name is Bella, right?" I grin. "Not Swan."

"Yeah, _Bella_," he smirks, leaning closer. "I know, but _Swan_ is out of the ordinary. So, I think I'll call you that for the rest of our acquaintance."

"Will you now? For the _entire_ next seven days?"

He chuckles as if he has other ideas.

"The room attendants make swans all the time with those towels. They're not that out of the ordinary," Irina says, inserting herself into the conversation.

She's also sunning herself on her stomach, on the chair to Edward's left. Of course, her gold, bikini top straps are untied because who wants tan lines? And the G-string on her bikini bottom ensures she doesn't have to worry about them on her ass either. So, unless one does a double-take, one would think she's lying completely naked. And she looks hot with her fat ass cheeks out; I've got to give the woman that.

Still, Edward remains angled toward me, his eyes on me, bikini straps or not, G-string or not.

"Edward, what was it the attendant left on my bed when we returned to my cabin last night? Did you even notice?" Irina giggles. "I think it was a towel frog, right?" She lifts her head and reaches out, trailing her fingers down his bare back.

She's not his girlfriend, I'm sure of it, but neither is she just a plain-old friend. If not on this cruise, at some point , they've hooked up, and she's laying out all her cards. Desperation makes us crazy. Just ask Queen B.

_"Got me looking so crazy right now..."_

Edward squirms out of her reach, exhaling heavily through his nostrils as his gaze remains on me. I quirk an eyebrow and grin while I sip my drink.

"I can't say I remember," he says testily. "You were passed out drunk, and I was trying to set you down without dropping you, so you could _sleep_."

For a few seconds, Irina says nothing. Meanwhile, I press my lips together to keep from bursting into fits of laughter. These _Caipirinhas_ are fucking strong.

_"It's the way that you know what I thought I knew..."_

"I'm pretty sure it was a frog," Irina finally says.

My shoulders shake with silent mirth, while some of the others try to contain their amusement as well. All the while, I hold Edward's even gaze over the glass rim.

_"It's the beat my heart skips when I'm with you..."_

"And on that note, guys, now might be a good time to start packing it up," Charlotte says. "We've got to get ready for our dinner reservations, and then get ready for our stop in St. Thomas tomorrow."

Various rumbles of begrudging agreement arise. While I'm packing it in along with them, Edward turns to me. He speaks lowly, a question meant only for my ears.

"So Bella, what are your plans tonight?"

"Yeah, Bella," Irina smiles, leaning over, "what are you and your boyfriend's plans tonight?"

I look at her for a second before returning my attention to Edward.

"I haven't made plans."

"Are you going to the Captain's Gala?" Charlotte asks with a smile.

"The itinerary and brochure both said attendance and formal wear for the evening were optional."

"They _are_ optional, Bella," Edward smiles. "No worries."

"They _are_ optional," Irina agrees, "but we as a group like to make a night out of it by dressing up and dining at the steakhouse. Don't we, Edward?"

He nods tightly. "In the past, yes."

"Do you have reservations at the steakhouse?" Emmett asks.

"No," I reply.

"You're more than welcome to join us, Bella," Garrett says.

"Yeah," Pete agrees. "I'm sure we can squeeze-"

"You can join us, but keep the groping between you and your boyfriend to a minimum, all right?" Irina laughs. Then, she leans in as if she's about to share something in confidence. "The steakhouse isn't the same type of scene as last night's sail-away party. They don't purposely cater to public groping the way the entertainment staff does."

"Irina, what the _fuck_?" Edward hisses.

"Irina, that's fucked up," Charlotte says. "Bella wasn't doing the groping. She was groped."

"I was just joking," she chuckles. "Besides, it was just her boyfriend."

"That didn't make it right," Carmen says.

"Edward was ready to kick his ass, Irina," Emmett spits. "You know that. A man doesn't do that to a woman, no matter what. Why the fuck would you even-"

"I was joking," she repeats defensively.

"No," Edward seethes. "What you were doing was being a-"

"It's fine." I wave a hand carelessly, though I'm mortified again, almost as much as I was last night, especially learning that Edward was ready to kick Quil's ass - and Quil doesn't even remember.

"It's fine," I repeat, though I can't stop myself from adding, "Though, in this day and age, I find it pretty unbelievable, Irina, that a woman would use the moment when another woman was mortified in public, against her – regardless of the reason."

The tan of the day leaches from Irina's gorgeous complexion. Her eyes grow wide, mouth flailing open. She doesn't know what to say. For a few moments, she appears so sincerely abashed that I almost...almost feel badly for her.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Bella. That _was_ messed up. I'm sorry."

But the entire scene annihilates the warm and fuzzies I had going. And furthermore...it reminds me that, while Irina may not be Edward's girlfriend…I've got a man.

Snorting, I shake my head. "Whatever. I'm out of here. Take care, guys. Nice hanging with you today."

"Bella, don't go," Emmett says.

"Yeah, Bella," most of the rest agree. "Don't go."

They call out for me, but with an awkward smile and wave, I walk away, anxious to disappear as much as you can disappear on a floating vessel. That's not to say I'm surprised when Edward reaches for me. I know the feel of those hands. They may have only been on me for half a minute last night, before Quil pulled me away, but I already know their shape...and their heat. He tugs my hand gently, but enough so that I've got to stop. Nonetheless, I shake him off.

"Stop it."

"No. Bella, come on."

"Come on, what?" When he has no answer, I offer him a wry grin. "Thanks for the distraction today."

"Bella..."

I hold his gaze, while Beyonce croons through the speakers.

_Got me looking so crazy, my baby._  
_I'm not myself. Baby, I'm foolish, I don't do this._

"Goodbye, Edward," I say concisely, then repeat it so we're clear. "_Goodbye_."

OOOOO

When I finally find my cabin, stumbling slightly drunk through the dark, winding maze, I find Quil, Jake, and Leah in the room. They're in a pile over the cabin room's only bed, passed out, with the hard liquor bottles, which I begged Jake and Quil not to sneak onboard, littering the enclosed surroundings.

For a few minutes, I can do nothing but stand there. Then, I gather up all the contraband, the empty bottles and the full ones, and I shove them all back in our luggage, which I stash under the beds.

When I emerge from the shower a few minutes later, beyond a vague question of where I'll sleep that night, I don't even care that they're all still passed out on my bed.

Donning a simple, yellow summer dress and sandals, I pick up my key card and leave the room.

OOOOO

The open-air sushi bar far aft of the ship's eleventh floor is mostly empty. The sushi is pretty good, as is the Saki and the ocean view, but I imagine most guests are at the Captain's formal gala this evening. As I made my way here, I passed individuals, families, and lovers strolling the ship's deck, taking formal pictures with the ship's photographers, and with the setting sun as the background.

Sitting on a high stool, I stab my last piece of Sushi, pile a sliver of ginger over it, and wash it down with my third - or fourth? - Saki. And yeah, I see the irony of it. I may not be piled in a heap after consuming illegal contraband, as were Jake, Leah, and Quil, but I am sitting here alone and drunk.

I swirl my little straw around my Saki.

"What are you thinking, Bella?"

He murmurs the words close to my ear. Because he's found me, which I didn't actually doubt he would. After all, we weren't finished.

Smiling, I keep my eyes on my Saki cup.

"I'm thinking of how differently I pictured this vacation a few months ago."

He's quiet for a moment. When I finally draw in a breath and look at him, I find him dressed in a tux, black silk bow-tie and all, and gazing softly at me.

"So, how did you picture it?"

I don't offer an immediate reply. "My mom is sick."

His gaze tightens infinitesimally, but it's as if he knows that though I mentioned it, I don't really want to talk about it. Instead, he simply keeps his eyes locked on me and patiently waits.

"I overreacted before with Irina, and with that whole scene yesterday..." I trail off.

Now, he's the one who takes a few moments. "I wanted to choke the shit out of your _boyfriend _last night_,_" he says plainly. "Or to throw him the fuck overboard. Emmett convinced me neither was a good idea. Yet."

I snort. "He was wasted. Doesn't even remember any of it."

"That's no fucking excuse."

"Why?" I grin wryly. "Because he interrupted our...dance?"

He shakes his head. "Irina isn't my girlfriend."

"I didn't ask," I chuckle.

He continues holding my gaze, searching my eyes.

"So, where is he and the rest of your friends?"

"Passed out drunk in my cabin. Where are yours?"

"Eating steak and sipping wine at the steakhouse."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"Because I'm here."

"Have you slept with her?"

Saki is apparently quite un-inhibiting.

"A couple of times," he says in that same conversational tone. "Not recently."

"But you're gonna on this cruise, huh?" I grin, sipping my Saki from my thin, little straw.

"I wouldn't say I'm _gonna_," he replies, "but it was the plan."

"Hey, I'm not here to change the plan," I chuckle heartily, putting a palm up between us and backing up against my chair.

Edward says nothing. Again, he merely holds my gaze.

"All right, you're going to have to stop doing that," I laugh.

"What am I doing, Bella?" he smiles.

When I lean in close to his ear, he drops his head and waits. His breath slows, and I see the fine, blond wisps of hair that rise on his neck. It makes me drunk with power; vindicated because he's had my fine hairs on end all day.

"Edward Masen…" I whisper, my lips purposely grazing his earlobe, "when you look at me like that…I can't breathe." I pull back slowly, with a satisfied grin on my face, because _I've_ won here, right?

Right?

When I meet his eyes, he's got a faint smile going on as he watches me through deep, sea-green eyes. After half a minute, he takes a deep breath and releases it in one long gust, as if he's arrived at some decision. Signaling for the check, he hands over his room card, takes care of the bill, and takes my hand.

"Bella Swan," he murmurs. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Back to my cabin."

OOOOO

"It isn't fair," I say, as Edward leads me through the hallways with his hand on the small of my back.

"What isn't fair, Bella?" he says. His thumb strokes my skin, burns through the thin cloth of my dress.

"That the hallways on this floor are so much nicer and wider than the hallways on my floor. Why is that?"

He shrugs and smiles in reply.

When he stops and swipes his key card, the door's lock clicks, and he pushes the door halfway open. For a few seconds, we both just stand at the threshold. My heart alternates between racing and stuttering, from equal parts anticipation and suspense. He's about to say something when I chuckle and bypass him, pushing the door all the way open. The lights go on, and my breath leaves me in a long rush.

"Oh my..."

A massive wall, made of floor-to-ceiling windows greets me. It looks out on a balcony with a pair of matching deck chairs and a full-sized, porcelain Jacuzzi tub. Beyond the balcony and the Jacuzzi are the now black waters of the Caribbean. Inside is a huge space with a colossal TV hanging on one wall and a small bar with a counter and four stools against the other wall. The room is decorated in light and dark wood, with a plush, white carpet and soft lighting. Oh, and the centerpiece is a magnificent, California King-sized bed, with the bed sheets already turned down, courtesy of the attentive staff.

"Want to get some fresh air?"

I'd seriously almost forgotten Edward; that's how impressive the room - excuse me, this is a fucking suite - is. When I take him in over my shoulder., he's removing his jacket, which he throws carelessly over a thickly upholstered chair, eyes remaining on me as he gestures toward the balcony. I nod, and he approaches me slowly. Again, he touches me...places his hand on the small of my back and leads me outside.

I stand silently against the railing and gaze at the moon, glowing in the unfathomably black sky. The ocean's gentle lapping as the ship displaces water fills my ears. It's as if nothing else exists in the world beyond the moon and the ocean.

"It's so peaceful and private out here," I whisper. I feel Edward's breath on my neck, and for a long while, we stand there. When he brushes his lips against my hair, I sigh and smile into the darkness. The ocean breeze caresses my face, whips up my hair, and after another long moment, he places his hands on me...grips my hips, thumbs stroking my skin, mouth ghosting back and forth.

"Bella..."

I shut my eyes, relax my body against his and rest my head on his shoulder. His mouth skims my temple.

"God, you look beautiful," he murmurs thickly.

"Says the hot guy in a tux," I chuckle.

"Bella-"

I don't know what else he planned to say, because unable to wait any longer, I flip around, and his mouth is on mine, hot and urgent. That's how easily it happens. He wraps his arms around my hips and pulls me close while I slide my arms around his neck. And then we just kiss...and kiss...languidly then quickly; gently then insistently. Time does not exist. It's just the moon, the ocean, and us.

Therefore, I can't say how long we're out there before Edward guides me by the hips back into the room, his hands, his mouth still on me. Impatiently, I fumble with the buttons on his vest, then with the ones on his shirt and divest him of both at once. We fall over that gorgeously huge - and soft - bed, laughing and kissing, his body hovering above mine.

"I've got an inside cabin," I say against his mouth.

He chuckles, still hovering above me. When my nails score his smooth, bare back and his firm shoulders, he hisses through his teeth and grins. I weave my fingers around his neck and tug him down, ready to feel his body completely against mine, but Edward holds back and cradles my cheek.

"I want you," I breathe, in case he doesn't realize this.

"Bella..." he says, his voice curiously pained. But then he does collapse on top of me, and when he grinds his hips against mine, all other thoughts abandon me. I cry out and wrap my legs around his hips, my dress riding up as I arch my back against the mattress to get closer. And then we grind...and groan...and grind. His mouth finds mine, tongue hot and urgent as he grips my hip while his other hand slips under the hem of my dress, fingers dancing up my thigh and he...

...he pulls away again.

We hold one another's bewildered gazes while he hovers above me.

"You're a tease," I finally smirk.

"And you're driving me crazy," he says, breathing hard, warm breath washing over me.

"Lust is lust is lust, right?" I grin.

"Is that what it is?" He snorts and with one last, long look, he falls sideways to the space beside me. In my periphery, I see his bare chest rise and fall, rise and fall in sync with mine. After a few minutes, when my breathing has more or less regulated, I lift myself on an elbow and turn toward him.

Edward looks at me and smiles. "I don't sleep with girls who are drunk."

"Luckily for us, I'm not drunk," I chuckle, reaching out and trying to guide him above me yet again. Yet, this time, he doesn't give in, and he makes sure his hips remain a few inches from mine.

"Yes, you are," he retorts. Nonetheless, his right hand grips my hip almost as if he can no longer keep from at least touching me, from at least languidly stroking me. Then, he traces the outline of my lips with his left thumb. "Plus, I don't sleep with girls who've got boyfriends."

"I don't…"

He quirks a brow, waiting to see how I'm going to finish. When I shut my mouth and laugh, Edward offers me a slow nod and a wry grin.

"Yeah, you can't refute that one, can you?"

I shrug a shoulder and skim a hand up his chest, slide it through his hair and pull the wisps at the nape of his neck. His eyes grow half-lidded, fill with lust as he grunts deep in his throat, and I know he still wants me. I felt how much he wants me. In my periphery, I clearly see how much he wants me.

"Edward, it's just a title," I assure him, "a designation that doesn't mean anything anymore."

"Ahh, I see." His eyes open fully, and he nods. "Then, that's got an easy solution." Those eyes hold mine.

"What? Break up with him?" I laugh again; laugh still. Who knows?

"Mhm," he nods. His fingers caress my face, and his eyes follow the path his fingers trace. Now, I'm the one whose eyes grow half-lidded, but I'm also afraid I'll fall asleep, and I don't want to miss a second of this; a second of him...of _us_ now that we're finally here.

"What were we saying?" I chuckle.

"_I_ was saying," he clarifies, "if there's nothing there anymore, break up with him."

"What? Here on the ship?"

"Here on the ship," he echoes.

"I can't do that!"

"Why not?" he smirks. "Were shipboard breakups not covered in the brochure either?"

"It would be awkward," I snicker. "We share a cabin."

"_That_ would be awkward, huh?" For a long while, Edward silently holds my gaze. When he cradles my jaw between his thumb and forefinger, he guides me forward, and my breath hitches in anticipation. Yet, at the last moment, his mouth evades mine. Instead, his lips merely graze the corner of my lips before skimming open-mouthed up my cheek and to my ear.

"Bella, what would be more awkward," he whispers, "breaking up with him in the middle of a cruise…or sleeping with me then returning to his bed?"

He doesn't pull away as his mouth continues its journey, now trailing downward to my jaw and curving around my neck and collarbone. I fist his hair, whimper and squirm against him.

"Please..."

"Make a decision," he breathes, brushing his lips back and forth against the upper swell of my breasts.

"I can't. I'm too drunk right now, and I can't think."

Edward chuckles, and then he does pull away, meeting my eyes with a smirk. "I thought you weren't drunk."

When I offer him a rueful grin, he kisses my eyes, my nose, and then gently brushes his lips to my mouth. And despite the weird-ass situation, I've never felt more...cherished. Sighing, Edward flips me over and tenderly spoons me against his bare chest and his hard groin.

"Go to sleep, Bella," he whispers in my ear.

"Are you sure that's what you want to do? Sleep is overrated, and we've only got six more nights."

He chuckles. And in spite of my continued protests, and the fact that I claim it's the last thing I want to do, after a few minutes...I fall asleep.

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Hope you enjoyed the long chapter.**

**"See" you soon. :)**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!**

**Sorry I haven't had a chance to get back to reviews, but I will soon! And I'm enjoying them all!**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.**

* * *

**Seven Nights – Chapter 4**

The first thing I note when I open my eyes is the muted sunlight which streams into the room. My brow furrows. My cabin has no windows, and therefore no light to filter in. When my gaze sweeps over the narrow sliver of drapery that's been left open, and to the balcony beyond it, I note a couple of other peculiarities. For one, the bed I'm in is heavenly plush and comfortable, unlike the narrow and hard mattress I've shared with Quil for the past couple of nights. For another, and infinitely more momentarily perplexing, there is pure, unadulterated warmth in the cocoon surrounding me. Quil's arms have _never_ felt like this.

Slowly, I turn over inside my firm yet snug haven and find a pair of bright green eyes standing out among the relative darkness…and already focused on me.

"Good morning," Edward whispers.

"Good morning," I reply just as quietly.

For a few moments, we're quietly locked in one another's gazes.

"What time is it?" I ask.

Edward lifts an arm behind me and consults his watch.

"Just before five-thirty." He meets my eyes again; silently but with a dozen questions anxiously swimming behind them.

"I've got to go before it gets any later," I finally murmur.

Slowly, he nods. When his stubbly Adam's apple bobs, I fight a sudden and almost overwhelming urge to lean in and kiss it, brush my lips back and forth…

My head throbs a bit with the slight hangover, but it's also clear now, and I remember everything.

"All right," he replies easily, though he clearly wants to say more.

The warm cage he's built around me slackens, and when his arms fall away, I force myself to sit up and turn away from him. With my back to Edward, I sit on the edge of the massive bed and make an attempt to right myself, straightening the neckline and the skewed straps on my dress, raking my fingers through my tousled hair.

Behind me, Edward clears his throat. "Bella, nothing beyond kissing…and actual sleeping happened last night."

"I know," I murmur. When I take him in over my shoulder, he's up on one elbow – hair tousled as well, shirtless, shoeless and sockless, but with his tuxedo pants still on. "I know, Edward. I wasn't _that_ drunk." I offer him a rueful smile.

He smiles in return. "But you _were_ drunk."

I chuckle. "Yes. _And_ I have a boyfriend," I nod, "regardless of how much of an asshole he is. So…thank you, for thinking straight for the both of us."

This time, when he nods, his features are impassive. "No problem."

With a sigh, I stand up and straighten the skirt of my dress, but it's a wrinkled, fucking mess which has obviously been slept in. Pulling open the drapes a bit more, I allow the sunlight to seep in while I gaze out at the lapping ocean.

"What time are we supposed to arrive at St. Thomas?"

"At about seven a.m. The rest of the guys and I have a bus waiting for us at seven-thirty to take us to Magens Bay beach. You're more than welcome to join us."

I merely nod, eyes still on the brightening horizon. "It's a beautiful view."

A handful of heartbeats transpire. "It definitely is."

"You wouldn't happen to have an extra toothbrush around, would you?"

"There's one in the blue bag in the bathroom, Bella."

"Okay, thanks."

I avert my eyes from him as I slip into the bathroom and take care of necessities. When I'm done brushing my teeth, I take in my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a mess; my mascara has run and left me looking like a Rockstar…and I look guilty of something I didn't quite do.

When I emerge, Edward is sitting on the edge of the bed. He smiles at me and slips into the bathroom while I search the room for my purse and my sandals.

"They're over by the dresser, Bella," Edward says when he emerges.

"Oh. Thank you," I say, feeling stupid as I slip the sandals on.

But I can't avoid this conversation, and I know it. Swallowing hard, I turn to where he's sitting on one of the upholstered chairs. When I meet his gaze, it's almost instinctive, taking the few steps toward him. Nonetheless, I force my feet to stop before I'm right before him because if I get too close, I can't answer for myself.

"Edward, I just want you to know I don't usually do things like this. In fact, I've never done anything like this."

He reaches out and takes my hand, weaving his fingers through mine. The gesture isn't demanding; it's as warm and comforting as it's meant to be.

"Bella, you don't have to explain yourself," he says, "and I'm only going to say two more things about this before I drop the subject because I don't want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable."

"Go ahead."

"What we spoke about last night, about you and me, I still want that. I still want you," he breathes.

"Edward-"

"But just as you've never done what we did last night, _I_ don't sneak around with other guy's girlfriends, no matter how much I may want her, and no matter how big of an asshole her guy seriously is. That being said," he grins, "I realize we're on a ship, and your options are limited. So…"

It's sudden when he takes my other hand and pulls me to stand between his long legs. I don't think even he realized he was about to do it. And when his mouth meets mine, when our lips brush softly back and forth, that feels instinctive too.

In the next moment, it's urgent and demanding. He drops his hands to my backside and helps me straddle him as I anchor myself around his neck, and my dress rides up. And he pulls, and I push, and we meet, hard and soft, with only slippery silk and thin wool between us. Beyond the half-open drapes, the sun continues its slow rise, bathing the room in a golden sort of darkness while our eyes hold, and we move and grind in an age-old rhythm, his bright green eyes glowing below mine, head angled upward in the most intense…and lustful expression.

"We've got to stop," he breathes shakily into my mouth, holding me prone against him contrary to his words.

My mouth falls open, head thrown back. "I know."

"We've got to stop," he repeats, mouth against my neck now.

"I know." I fist his hair.

Gripping my backside, he pulls me away, and we both grunt because it's physically painful. Our eyes remain locked, while our chests rise and fall. After a few seconds, he rests his forehead on mine, warm breath washing over me, though my heart still races.

Edward snorts. "It's as if no matter how much I swear to myself up and down that I'm going to, I can't resist you."

"I know," I chuckle. "Same for me."

He pulls back and smiles sheepishly, then with one soft yet quick kiss, he gently helps me to my feet, though he keeps my hands in his.

"What I was going to say, is that if you do decide to break up with him, you don't need to worry about where you'll stay."

I quirk an eyebrow.

"No strings attached," he says solemnly. "I promise."

And though I know he means it, we've just confessed we can't resist one another, so how much is that promise really worth? And I think deep inside, on some level, we both know those strings are definitely there.

"I…I really have to go."

A flash of disappointment darkens his features. He wants a more concrete answer, but true to his word, he won't push for one.

"All right, Bella. I'll walk you to your…"

The slow smirk I offer cuts him off. When I disentangle our hands, he releases me instantly. And backing away without another word, I turn around and leave his suite.

OOOOO

When I arrive at my indoor cabin a few decks below Edward's, I find Quil sitting at the edge of the bed, much as Edward was this morning yet so different. He's tying on a pair of sneakers and looks up suddenly when he hears the door. His eyes are bloodshot, and the messy hair doesn't quite do for him what it does for Edward. He's in the shorts and tee-shirt he obviously slept in, and the small, enclosed room reeks of alcohol and of no windows or balcony for fresh air.

But those are all just superficial differences.

"I was going to come looking for you, Bella. I haven't seen you since yesterday morning." Quil chuckles in his usual, unfazed manner, but at least he sounds as if he's sobered. "Where've you been, babe?"

"Where have _I_ been?" I repeat, taking a step forward. But then I stop. The space in this cabin is seriously tight, and if I take another step, I'll be just as close to Quil as I was to Edward a short while ago. "I returned to the cabin yesterday afternoon and found you, Jake, and Leah passed out drunk on the bed."

Again, he chuckles. "We were waiting for you, but you didn't show up."

"Do you think that was my point?" I chuckle humorlessly. "That you didn't wait for me? Did you bother leaving the room to look for me?"

"You knew where we were, Bells, whereas I had no idea where to look for you. It's a big ship," he says with an easy smile.

I stare at him. "Do you still not remember what you did the night before?"

He sighs heavily and rests his arms on his legs, folding his hands together.

"What did I do wrong now, Bella?"

"We were at the sail-away party, and I was dancing, and you were drunk, as usual-"

He rolls his eyes and grins.

"-and you came up behind me, groped me, and ground yourself into me talking about how you were going to take me doggy-style that night."

He chuckles. "I was drunk!"

"You just don't get it, do you?" I shake my head. "And I'm tired of trying. Actually, I'm not interested in trying anymore."

With that, I move around him as best as I can, considering the space, and I pull my luggage bag out from under the bed.

"What are you doing, Bella?" he snorts.

Unzipping the bag, I begin opening the minuscule drawers in the closet.

"I'm packing."

"And where the hell do you think you're going?" he chuckles. "We're on a ship."

"I got a room."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really." With my drawers emptied, I pull down the few items I had on hangers and carefully fold them. "It's actually smaller than this one, and on an even lower deck, which I didn't believe was possible," I chuckle mirthlessly, "but at least it gets me out of here." With my clothes all packed, I move into the bathroom to retrieve my toiletries. When I emerge, Quil is still sitting on the bed.

"You're overreacting, Bella," he says as I pack away my toiletries bag, "the way you've overreacted about everything since your Mom got sick."

At this, I round on him.

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare mention my mom."

"Bella, a few months ago, you loved partying as hard as we do. What are we supposed to do – stop being young? Stop enjoying our lives because of your mother's-"

"Fuck you, Quil," I hiss quietly.

He chuckles.

"If it wasn't so over between us, those few fucking sentences would've done the trick."

I slam my bag shut and zip it the fuck up. All the while, Quil chuckles.

"Bella, you walk out, you're going to have to do some serious groveling before I agree to let you come back after you realize your cabin is below sea level," he laughs.

As I pick up my bag, I smile at him. "You're making this easier and easier for me. Take care, Quil. And seriously, cut down just a bit on the drinking for your liver's sake."

"I'm just kidding. Come on, babe, stop," he says as I walk out. "Bella. Bella!"

OOOOO

By the time I've settled into my even-fucking-smaller cabin – and yeah, it probably is below sea level – it's about eight in the morning.

Bouncy Brit Jessica continuously announces over the ship's loudspeaker that the front gangway is now ready for debarkation into beautiful, sunny St. Thomas in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Conveniently enough, I'm so low on the ship that the gangway is just one flight down for me.

For a few minutes, after I've finished unpacking, I just sit on my twin-sized bed and stare at the door.

I can choose to stay in the room all day like Quil did yesterday. Or I can hang around the ship with all those other passengers, who for one reason or another don't plan to debark, and take full advantage of my drink package – all by myself. Quil is right about one thing; a few months ago, I was a different type of person.

Or…I can get off the ship and enjoy the island.

After changing into a bright pink two-piece, I layer on a pair of white, palazzo, wide-leg pants slit all the way to the waistline. Then I pack my beach bag with one of the ship's pool towels, sunscreen, a bottle of water, passport, my new room key, cash, and finally…Edward Masen's sunglasses.

OOOOO

As I walk down the gangway plank, the absolutely, unapologetically hot sun makes me smile. Past the gangway, ship photographers wait with professional cameras in hand to shoot pictures of willing passengers with staff people dressed as pirates. I give in to one guy and take a couple before continuing on my way. Past security, island people dressed in gorgeous and colorful clothing loudly call out to all debarking passengers, holding signs offering various activities at various prices – snorkeling, glass-bottom boats, catamaran rides, beaches. Caribbean beats play in the background. I grin as I recall my mom's plea that I try my best to have fun…and then I stop at the line for cabs.

"How do I get to Magens Beach?"

OOOOO

A gorgeous trolley ride takes the various hills of the island at way-too-fast speeds and way-too-sharp turns. It's exhilarating, and the views as we climb higher and higher are beyond anything I've ever seen. Past one of the hills, the Caribbean waters come into partial and then magnificently into full view. Bright flowers frame both it and a town full of pastel-toned structures. If I reach out, I can pick the flowers – but we're warned not to do so.

"Traveling by yourself, honey?" An old lady is tucked tightly at my side so as to pack in as many of us tourists as possible. She's holding hands with an equally older gentleman at her side.

I smile at her. "Yes, I am."

"Oh, that's a shame," she says in that blunt, senior-citizen manner. "Pretty girl like you shouldn't be experiencing this all by herself."

"I'm fine with it," I grin.

"When you're in the Caribbean, you need someone to kiss, and kiss often."

"Alice," her husband warns at her side

"Really, it's fine. Besides…I've made friends."

"Oh, good," she says, sounding genuinely happy for me.

I turn back to the view, snapping pictures with my phone.

"You got a boyfriend back home?"

I turn back to the curious lady and shake my head, then turn back to the scenery.

"Pretty girl like you should have a boyfriend."

"Alice, leave the girl alone," her husband says.

"I'm just saying, Jasper."

"Well, _stop_ saying is what I'm saying," Jasper grumbles.

"That's fine," I say, offering them both a chuckle before I turn once more to the view of colorful, native flora growing wild among pastel, cement homes with the blue ocean everywhere.

We talk a bit more, but then the trolley descends on the other side of the hills, and it makes its way down dirt roads before arriving at a crowded little square with palapa stalls selling everything from souvenirs to drinks to beach necessities.

As we all stream off, the driver collects the fare and a none-too-shy request for tips – which is fine. This is their land, their beaches, and they're providing a service to us tourists who want to enjoy it.

"Have fun, honey!" Alice calls out as Jasper guides her in the opposite direction from which I head. "And remember what I said! Find someone to kiss and kiss often!"

"Alice, for the love..." Jasper says.

As the cruise brochure described, Magens Bay Beach has to be one of the most gorgeous beaches I've ever seen. Granted, I haven't seen many, but as I stroll aimlessly down the shoreline, crystalline waters lap at my feet and white sand tickles my toes. As the beach's name describes, it's a bay enclosed by lush, green hills on both sides. Beautiful mansions lay tucked within the hills, and I can't even imagine what type of lucky person wakes up to this warmth, sunshine, and view every morning. Most of the beach is already packed in and crowded by the various cruise ship tourists which have arrived this morning, but as I walk further and further away from the main arrival point, the crowd thins.

And yes, I've been wandering aimlessly, but I've hoped to find him – and the rest of the group, of course.

I hear their laughter first – already familiar to me:

Emmett's booming howls from the water, and Garrett's chuckles as he tries to drown his brawny husband; Charlotte's laughter from a few feet away, watching them, and Pete swimming through the water to reach them and help one or the other; Carmen's whiny voice as she complains they're going in too deep, and Eli simply standing next to her.

Irina lays over a towel and suns herself.

Edward…sits at the shoreline, long legs bent at the knee, arms resting on them, watching his friends while the sun's rays shine on him, make the tattoo and the freckles on his back stand out all the more.

"Yo bro, come help me!" Emmett yells as Pete, Garrett, and Charlotte all gang up on him.

"Later!" Edward calls out.

Emmett spots me first, standing behind Edward, and a wide grin spreads across his face.

"Yeah, much later!" he snickers.

Quietly, I drop to my knees…and I give in and kiss the birthmark at his nape.

He stiffens only for a second, and when he swivels around, he's already smiling.

"You made it."

"I made it," I smile back.

"Everything good?"

It's a loaded question.

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's good. I got another room. It's really small," I smile.

"Okay." He swallows and nods, green eyes reflecting the golden sun. Reaching up, he adjusts my...his sunglasses.

"I really like those shades," he grins.

"You can borrow them," I tease. He laughs, then he takes my hand and helps me up.

"Where are we going? In the water?"

"Not just yet. First, I want to show you something."

Hand in hand, he leads me down the shoreline. Irina opens her eyes as we pass. When she sees me, she holds my gaze coldly for a second before turning back to the warm sun.

For a couple of minutes, Edward and I walk silently yet comfortably along the calm shoreline.

"I had a talk with her this morning, about how she acted yesterday."

"She had expectations," I say. "I almost can't blame her."

"And I apologized for that," he acknowledges, "but it is what it is."

I look up at him, framed by the sun and by the Caribbean, and there can't possibly be a better sight. "And what is it?"

"You tell me," he smiles in reply.

There's a grouping of trees and shrubbery growing out of the water at the foothill on the very end of the beach. They're lush and dense, and they sort of remind me of the vegetation back home but not quite. I mention this.

"They're mangroves," Edward says. "They only grow in the tropics. We have them back home in Miami."

"Well, we obviously don't have mangroves in Washington," I chuckle. "It's beautiful, Edward. Thanks for showing me."

"Legend has it that Sir Francis Drake, the pirate, used these mangroves to hide his plundered treasures."

"So, there might still be hidden treasure around here?" I grin.

"Should we explore and find out?" he grins in return.

"I don't know about you, but I love exploring," I tease.

For one long moment, our gazes hold. Then, he guides me around the bend, to where the tree line forms a hidden copse, almost like a minuscule, private island amid the very public bay. There, Edward places his arm around my back and leans me against a tree, crushing his mouth to mine. He kisses me hard then soft, fast then slow, with absolute abandon…and with tender, tentative awe. But there's a promise for more in the way his free hand roams unapologetically from my hair to my waist, to my hip…to my backside.

"I don't know about you, but I think I found _my_ treasure," he murmurs against my lips.

I chuckle, pulling him in closer, and for a long, while…we don't emerge from those trees.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**"See" you soon. ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A**/**N**: T**hanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest are mine. All mistakes are mine. **

**Chapter 5**

** Day Three – At Port: Magen's Bay Beach**

After exploring the mangroves at Magen's Bay Beach, Edward and I spend the rest of the balmy and sunny morning swimming and splashing around. We wade into the shallow waters reaching my shoulders and Edward's waist, and there we stay for a bit. Like children, we play games, at turns laughing then play-fighting. The bay is so crystal clear, we don't need masks or snorkels to spot the fish, who happily share their little piece of Eden. I dig my toes into the warm, malleable sand floor, while kicking back a bucket or two of ice-cold beers with Edward and company – minus one, of course; but we'll get to that later – and it's all good.

"All right," Emmett roars at one point. "I hereby call this year's Beach Water Wrestling Tournament to order. Everyone into teams!"

"Beach Water wrestling?" I ask Edward while the others form their teams.

"It's a yearly, summer tradition," Edward grins, "whether we're on vacation or back home in someone's pool."

"Well, I've never beach water wrestled." I laugh. "The Pacific water is too cold up in Washington to beach water wrestle, and not many of us have inground pools."

Edward slips his arms around my waist. "That's fine. If we lose early on, it'll give us an excuse to go find somewhere else to _explore_." He nips my shoulder.

I'm still laughing as Edward crouches so that I can scale his shoulders, and Charlotte climbs her husband, Pete's. Despite his acclaimed willingness to lose early on, once I'm up, both our competitive streaks seem to kick in; in my case, it's almost too high for me to note that Edward's hands are splayed on my thighs, and that my hoo-haa is pressed against his nape.

Almost.

Then, I catch sight of Irina. Since Edward and I returned from the mangroves, she's been sunning herself atop a towel laid out on the sand. Sighing, I drop my voice to an almost whisper because the ocean breeze carries sound extremely well.

"Should someone ask Irina to join us?"

Charlotte smirks and replies just as surreptitiously. "We keep trying, but…" She trails off, then calls out in a louder voice, "Hey, Irina, come join us, girlie! We're all taking turns!"

Without looking up, Irina waves a hand in dismissal.

"Whatever," Emmett mutters, pursing his lips. "All right; first teams! Bella and Edward versus Charlotte and Peter!"

"Now, Char, baby, you can take her." Pete grins mischievously at Edward and me while securing his wife's legs around his shoulders. "I've got insider info: I heard Bella here say she's not used to wrestling in tropical waters. Plus, I'm pretty sure Ed'll be too distracted by having her legs around his shoulders to keep his balance."

I chuckle at their ribbing.

"You think so, huh Pete?" Edward retorts. "We'll see."

"Oh, we will see, Edward honey. What's more, Bella won't be able to focus because she's got her vagina pressed against your neck," Charlotte adds with a chuckle.

"Hey!" I say with feigned indignation, laughing hard.

"All right, all right," Emmett says, clapping his hands. "Legs around shoulders and vaginas around napes," – he rolls his eyes – "all of that notwithstanding, let's get this show on the road!"

Charlotte and I go at it while each guy tries his best to keep his balance, and the rest – minus one – cheer us all on. I dig my feet into Edward's chest to maintain my balance. It's so rock-solid, I'm not moving. And yeah, it's a bit distracting, but as long as Edward can stay upright…

When Pete goes down and takes Charlotte with him, I throw my fists up in the air.

"Yes! Woo-hoo!"

Edward releases one of my thighs just long enough to do the same. Then, he takes my hand and gives it a quick squeeze.

"Good job, Bella."

"Likewise, partner."

Edward tilts up his head and I tilt mine down, and when our eyes meet, we grin goofily, as if we'd just won a professional wrestling match.

Charlotte smacks the surface of the water as she emerges and faces her husband. "Damn it, baby! Those two had some serious distractions working against them! All you had to do was keep your balance!"

We roar with laughter while Pete offers her an apologetic grin. "Sorry, sweetheart."

Carmen and Eli battle us next. Carmen slips and slides and Eli can't seem to make purchase with the sand. They go down even quicker.

Carmen hurls accusations as she emerges from the water, but she's grinning. "Bella, you cheated!"

"How, by beating you?" I shriek, grinning as well.

By now, both Edward and I have grown somewhat cocky.

"What now?" Edward shouts, all loud and confident. "Weren't you all just telling us we won't be able to focus? What now?"

I back him up. "That's right!" I yell all upbeat – until Garrett climbs Emmett's shoulders.

"No fucking way, Garrett," I laugh.

"Why not? Cuz I'm a dude?"

"Yeah!"

"That's gender discrimination, Bella! I thought you were better than that," he teases.

Edward eggs me on. "Come on, Bella, you can take my brother-in-law."

Emmett howls in amusement. "Ooh, Garrett babe, those are fightin' words my little brother just flung out!" He bangs the surface of the water with his palms and displaces it for yards. "Let's go get 'em."

"Fine, fine!" I grin.

It's a long-lasting battle. Emmett is even more solidly built than his brother, and Garrett, while thin and smaller, is a wily fucker.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, Garrett baby, I'm getting a cramp." Emmett starts hopping on one foot. "I'm getting a cramp!"

"Em, don't you dare!" Garrett warns as he begins listing backward.

"My foot's cramped! I'm losing it! I'm losing-"

And Garrett goes down with a splash.

"Hah! Yes!" Edward howls, fist pumping the air again. "Bella, baby, you're the best!"

"You're not so bad yourself," I laugh, raking my hands through his damp hair, over and over.

"Here's what you all seem to have missed," Edward says when Garrett finally emerges. "Bella may not be used to wrestling in the tropics, but she's a tour guide in the Northwest _mountains_."

"Ahh," Garrett nods, pushing his wet hair off his face. "Which would require some endurance strength; I see."

"Damn. I didn't think of that," Emmett grins, thoughtfully stroking his chin. "Oh, well." He sighs dramatically as Pete hands him a couple of beer bottles, and Emmett hands them to Edward and me. "In that case, I hereby begrudgingly call Bella and Edward the winners of this year's Beach Water Wrestling Tournament!"

My favorite part of the tournament might be when Edward maneuvers me carefully so that I slip and slide down his body and end up securely in his arms, and we clink our bottles together.

"Good job, partner." He smiles softly and brushes his lips against my forehead. "We make a good team."

I smile back up at him. "Looks like we do."

OOOOO

There's a live DJ at the busy palapa bar all the way by the beach entrance, but the warm breeze easily carries the music throughout. We sway to the tropical beats, mimicking the palm trees around us. For a moment, I think of my mom back home, and of the promise she extracted from me to _try_ to have fun and relax. I smile to myself because that morning, Life is almost as good as I can imagine it.

It gets even better when Edward wraps his arm around my waist. Expelling an exaggerated huff, he easily hefts me up from the water with his free arm and pulls me against his long frame. I turn halfway, slipping an arm around his neck for support. When our eyes meet, he grins, green eyes sparkling wickedly because my left breast is pressed against his chest, and yeah, I feel his hard-on against my hip.

"You looked like you were about to be swept away by the current," he says.

"I've never seen calmer waters in my entire life," I snicker. "There are barely even waves."

Edward's unapologetic grin grows, and when he leans in close to my ear, his warm breath tickles my neck. I squirm against him, and at the same time, underneath the crystalline water, he furtively grinds against me. The heady combination...sun, sand, sea, liquor, and most of all…_Edward_…makes me feverish yet shivery, heart-racingly anxious yet full of breathless anticipation.

"Maybe I was just looking for an excuse to hold you close." He places a soft, lingering kiss on my neck, and as he pulls back, I lean into his ear.

"Maybe you should stop looking for unnecessary excuses," I murmur, my lips skimming his stubbly, angular jawline, "when there are much better reasons to hold me close."

"Are there?" he asks quietly, his voice slightly quiverish. "Any suggestions?"

Holding his gaze, I covertly arch deeper against him, and the almost inaudible yet irrepressible grunt he emits as well as the slight shudder that ripples between his shoulders makes me lightheaded – and more than a little drunk on the hold I seem to have over him.

"Bella…" he breathes.

For the next half hour or so, Edward, me, and most of the rest of his group form a semicircle in the water and bullshit the time away. All the while, Edward holds me flush against his hard-on, his hand splayed across my bare thigh underwater, guiding me back and forth…back and forth. It's so languid it's indiscernible. Nodding, smiling and laughing in all the right places, as if I'm not about to combust, becomes the most delicious form of torture.

It's especially torturous knowing that the next few hours are the only obstacles remaining to what we want – to what we've both wanted since almost the moment our eyes met. Despite the beauty of the day and of my tropical surroundings, I find myself suddenly wishing it all away. More than anything, more than sun and sand and sea and surf…I want Edward.

OOOOO

There is…one small cloud which appears to mar the perfection of the day. Actually, it's an incident which occurs later in the afternoon, before we head back to the ship.

While the guys are deeper in the water, a school of medium-sized fish swim by and graze Carmen's, Charlotte's, and my bare legs. It's somewhat slimy, but Charlotte and I laugh, while Carmen runs screaming out of the water.

"Carmen, they're just fish!" Charlotte calls out.

"They won't do more than nip you here and there!" I add.

"Like little love taps!" Charlotte says.

We laugh hard. When Carmen is safely at the shoreline, she turns and gives us the finger.

"Eff you, bitches. I hope those fish love-nip both your asses!"

Charlotte and I hold our stomachs from the force of our laughter. She and I have grown friendlier over the day. What's more, Carmen isn't so bad either. We'll probably never be besties, but at least she's not off somewhere whispering furiously behind my back, like yesterday. And, at least Carmen hasn't spent the day sulking slash protesting my presence by ignoring her friends and laying out on a towel, while she worships the sun.

Anyway, Charlotte and I are still laughing at Carmen when we catch sight of Irina, now laying on her stomach, ass up, and of course, the G-string ensuring she tans nicely.

Charlotte purses her lips and sighs. "Irina, enough sunning yourself! Come in the water with us!"

Irina lifts a hand and waves off Charlotte's invitation without even looking up. "Later."

"But it's almost time to leave!" Charlotte says. "You've been there all day!"

No reply.

Carmen then approaches Irina, and while from here it's hard to catch the entire conversation, Carmen's gestures and the ocean breeze carry the main gist.

"…just deal with it already…you're acting like you and he…

"…he and I we were supposed to…

"…_he_ likes _her_, and she broke up with…

"…from the very beginning…"

"…he never made you any…and we warned you…"

"…nice how you're all so friendly…"

"…petulant…we're your friends too…"

Irina's final reply is lost when the soft waves break, but based on how Carmen stomps her foot over the sand and storms off, it wasn't good.

Charlotte shakes her head. "Irina can be a stubborn…anyway." She jerks her chin in the direction of the guys. "All-aboard time is four p.m. Let's get them and get going."

OOOOO

While we're all gathering our stuff, and I'm folding my towel, Edward comes up behind me and brushes his lips back and forth against my shoulder.

"Your shoulders are a bit red," he murmurs, and his words tingle against my skin…but Irina is right there, in my periphery. I squirm away from Edward. When I look at him, he frowns and offers me a puzzled smile.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. It just burns a bit."

"Oh." The puzzled smile morphs into one of apology. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," I assure him softly, sighing.

We shuffle through the sand with our shoes in hand. Edward walks next to me, but I'm keenly aware of Irina's presence close behind. When we arrive at the pastel pink, concrete building housing the public restrooms and the outdoor water pump, we clean the sand off our feet and legs before taking turns in the bathroom stalls.

Somehow, Irina and I end up outside alone while the rest are split between the men's and women's bathrooms. At first, we both inspect the sky, our nails, our tans, but then, unfortunately, our eyes meet.

"It's a gorgeous beach, isn't it?" I manage a faint smile, while Irina holds my gaze wordlessly and expressionless. Stupidly, I try again.

"It's different from the beaches we have up in Washington; though, those are pretty too, in their own way."

No reaction.

"But I guess living in Miami, you guys are used to-"

"Are you trying to be my _friend_, Bella?" She quirks a perfectly-shaped eyebrow.

"Maybe not your friend," I clarify, "but for the sake of easing everyone's discomfort-"

"Which you've caused."

Ignoring the accusation, I trudge on. "-I thought we might try to leave behind the passive-aggressiveness and snide remarks as well as the covert glares and the overt avoidance – and I mean on _both_ sides," I acknowledge with another smile.

For one, long moment, she scrutinizes me, and I assume she's considering my proposal. After all, these guys have been her friends for far longer than I've known them. Easing the awkward tension should matter more to her than to me.

"Bella, I think you're overblowing the situation here. I mean, there's what," she snorts, "five days left on this cruise? Then, you'll go back to Washington and to wherever you're from, and Edward and the rest of us will return to Miami, and…that'll be that." She ends with a shrug and one of her signature, saccharine smiles.

But the insinuation comes through loud and clear: I've only 'taken' Edward away from her temporarily. Once this cruise is over, I'll return to Washington – alone – and they'll return to Miami together to…

To who knows what? After all, Edward admitted they've slept together. How that worked…or will still work, I have no clue. Either way, whether it's true or not, the implication as well as her smug-ass overtones ensure that my initially good intentions are completely annihilated.

"Irina, though I know you had other hopes for this cruise, I didn't steal anything from you."

"Like I said, come next weekend, you won't be around anymore. Bella," she smiles, "Edward and I have been friends since college. I've outlasted _real_ girlfriends," she stresses condescendingly, "girls who've stuck around for much longer than seven nights, and girls who've lived much closer. So, you're right; you haven't stolen anything from me."

Her words as well as the conviction behind them strike me like a backhanded slap. I've got to be honest, if she meant to make me feel somewhat insignificant and _totally_ whorey, she succeeds – for about five seconds before my mouth takes over.

"If that's true, then you need to realize that when a guy doesn't take your interest seriously, especially when you've been so overt about it for that long, he's never going to. And you need to start valuing yourself a bit more."

"Go to hell, Bella," she grins icily.

When Edward and the rest of the guys emerge from the bathrooms, talking and laughing, I quickly turn away from Irina and face Edward, hastily rearranging my features. Though, maybe, I'm not quick enough.

Edward frowns as he takes my hand. "What's wrong?"

Here's what I'm thinking in the second before I reply: After the shit Quil pulled the other night, I've had enough scenes to last me beyond the cruise. What's more…if there's one thing Irina is correct about, it's the fact that there are only five days left to this cruise. What would be the point of turning _any_ of this into more than what it is?

"Nothing," I say, offering him a smile. "Just tired, I guess. We've been under the sun for hours."

He nods slowly, searching my eyes. After a few seconds, he smiles hesitantly in return. "We'll be back on the air-conditioned ship in a few."

OOOOO

It takes me a bit, but while on the trolley ride back to the ship, I manage to push Irina's words out of my mind. Instead of seething at the images she's tried to plant in my head, I remind myself that it _doesn't matter _whether what she implied is true or not. Edward and I know exactly what this is. This is vacation, and we're both here for a good time. _I'm_ here for a good time because I made a promise to my mom. Rolling Irina's words around and around in my head sure as hell won't accomplish that.

So, I turn to Edward, who's silently sitting next to me on the trolley, looking lost in thought as he keeps his eyes straight ahead. Angling sideways, I press my mouth to his. When I pull back, he lifts his brows, appearing surprised…yet also pleased; maybe even relieved.

"You're missing the beautiful scenery," I smile.

"Not anymore," he murmurs. "You've been quiet," he says just as quietly. "I thought maybe…you'd changed your mind."

I know what he means. Cradling his angular jaw in one hand, I pull him closer and kiss him long and hard – PDAs be damned. And fuck Irina too if she's watching from her row behind us.

"Does that answer your question?" I smile against his mouth.

He chuckles, thumb stroking my cheek. "Yeah."

"I guess too much sun drains me, plus…I've been a bit worried about my mom." That last part, at least, is true.

Edward nods slowly. "Have you spoken with her?"

I shake my head. "She made me promise not to call unless it was an emergency, and in return, she and my dad promised they would call if anything…major came up at home."

Again, he nods, holding my gaze; gauging, I suppose, how much he can ask.

"I get the feeling," he hedges carefully, "that you and your mom are very close."

"We are," I smile. "She's my best friend for all intents and purposes." Drawing in a breath, I pause.

In general, I don't speak about my mom and what's been going on with her. I mean, Quil, Leah, Jake, and a few others know the basics, of course, but I don't add to those basics. Those friends, that boyfriend, they were all youthful distractions; part of a life before any real responsibilities intruded. Which was fine. Yet, once those real responsibilities did intrude, none of them seemed willing to share that part of my life. Therefore, I didn't share either. I've _never_ felt comfortable enough…close enough to anyone to share that part of my life.

Yet, when Edward takes my hand and weaves our fingers together...in the middle of a trolley ride in St. Thomas, the words flow with startling ease.

"She and my dad married young, straight out of high school. Half of the time they still act like fucking teenagers in love," I snort, "throwing around sexual innuendos and all."

Edward throws back his head and laughs. "That must get interesting."

"It's disgusting," I chuckle, "but I've grown used to it. They're very open with me; I suppose because they had me so young. My dad always says, 'When you know, you know,'" I laugh.

"And he knew," Edward says, smiling softly now.

"Yeah. Mom is only nineteen years older than me. She just turned forty-one. Right around the time she was turning forty, she was getting sick a lot, which was strange because she takes good care of herself. Anyway, she went to the doctor and…" My voice quivers, and when I hang my head, Edward squeezes my hand gently within his.

"Bella, you don't have to say more if you don't want to."

He means it, and it's the quiet understanding in his voice which helps me draw a deep breath and meet his tender eyes again.

"Stage Two," I say simply. "She's fighting it."

He nods, and the fact that he doesn't offer me the typical lines, the 'I'm so sorry's' or the 'She's strong, she'll get through this,' or any of the other myriad things people tend to think will make everything better…makes all the difference. Edward simply holds my hand tightly, and somehow...that's enough.

"She's so much fun, Edward," I grin. "She makes jokes," I shake my head ruefully. "We've always talked about pretty much everything. This vacation was her idea. I've been taking care of her, helping with the tour business since she got sick. I originally majored in Literature. Anyway, she wanted me to get away and just…relax." I gaze down at our knit hands. "I don't begrudge her a moment, but…I guess I've been neglecting areas of my own life, which I suppose is why I was still hanging around with Quil and friends." I snort. "Those relationships didn't take much effort or focus."

"I know what that's like, Bella," he says quietly, "hanging around with someone you've outgrown just because it's easier than cutting them out."

We hold one another's gaze.

"So anyway," I finally breathe, "as long as this thing doesn't ring with a call from home," I gesture to the phone in my free hand and swallow, "… all's good." When I smile a bit shakily, Edward brushes his mouth to my forehead. For about a minute, we say no more.

"Bella, you strike me as a strong person, and I don't just mean Beach Water Wrestling strong."

That makes me chuckle, and it was likely a purposeful attempt to dispel some of the heaviness that's settled over us, because this – whatever _this_ is – was never meant to be heavy.

"It sounds like you've been handling quite a bit on your own."

"It's fine," I murmur.

"And it sounds like you trust your parents quite a bit."

"I do."

"Then…trust them to call you if anything comes up."

"You're right." I offer him a grateful grin.

"And…if your cell phone rings…and it's a call from home…" he whispers, leaning in close to me, "you can count on me."

His green eyes shine with sincerity, with honesty, and it makes my eyes sting because we've only just met, and we literally live across the country from one another. And, while I know he's not _lying_, I've got to remind myself it's just one of those nice things people say, right along the lines of 'I'm so sorry.'

Either way, I lean in and brush my lips to his softly, back and forth.

"Thank you, even if-"

Someone shouts excitedly from the other end of the row. "Oh, my God! Jasper, look! It's Bella!"

With a chuckle, I pull away from Edward, and peek down the row.

"Hi, Alice. Hi, Jasper," I say, waving at them. "How was your day at the beach?"

"Apparently not as good as yours, honey," Alice snickers, leaning forward to talk while disregarding the row of bewildered strangers between us. "Boy, when I sent you off to find someone to kiss and kiss often, you sure rose to the challenge."

"Alice, cut it out," Jasper mutters. "Leave the girl be."

I chuckle. "Alice, Jasper, this is Edward." When I turn back toward Edward, he looks a bit bewildered himself. "Edward, this is Alice and Jasper. We met on the ride to the beach," I explain.

"Oh. It's very nice to meet you both," he says, extending a hand across the row to shake both of their hands. "I hope you're enjoying yourselves."

"Oh my goodness." Alice places a withered and bejeweled palm over her chest. "Not only is he one fine specimen, but that was a mighty powerful hand-shake, _and_ he's got good manners to boot! Tell me, Edward honey, are you rich too? Because then, you'll be the total package, and my Bella here should snap you up right here and now."

Edward simply chuckles in reply.

"Damn it, Alice! Now you're embarrassing the boy as well?" Jasper chastises.

"I'm just asking!"

"Well, stop asking is what I'm asking!"

Edward and I lean our heads together, our shoulders shaking with mirth and the mutual effort to repress our laughter. When our mouths meet, hands still entwined, we barely even realize we've reached the ship's port until his friends call out to us.

Edward pays and tips for us both, and I offer him my thanks. Then, hand in hand we make our way toward the massive cruise ship, taking in the last-minute local wares offered in various stalls along the way. When I stop to admire the braided leather bracelets offered in one stall, picking up a particularly intricate and pretty one to give it a closer inspection, the stall owner quickly approaches.

"Do you like it?"

"It's gorgeous."

"That's our best one. I'll give you a great price," he offers.

"Oh." I return the bracelet to its place and take a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"How much?" Edward asks.

The man names his price, and after Edward hands him a bill and begins tying the bracelet around my wrist, I offer him a wry grin.

"You're supposed to haggle the price."

He looks up at me through dark eyelashes. "Was that in the brochure too?"

Chuckling, I cradle his jaw with the hand now wearing my bracelet, and I lift myself on my tiptoes to softly kiss him. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

We hold one another's gaze.

"Edward, I'd like to freshen up first," I murmur, "but then...come meet me in my room."

He frowns for a second, while an expression I can't quite read crosses his features, something almost like...disappointment.

"Or I can come to your-"

"Bella, may I take you to dinner first? Tonight. Just you and me, if that's okay."

I raise my brows, surprised and also somewhat bemused because he looks nervous, when we've known where this is going from the beginning.

"Oh. Okay, yeah. That would be nice."

He grins and captures my mouth tenderly...but with a promise for more.

"And after dinner, Bella Swan," he breathes against my mouth, "get ready because you're all mine."

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**There's a song that goes great with this chapter:**

**_Sunset_ by Farruko (with Nicky Jam and Shaggy).**

**Its mainly in Spanish, but talk about a sexy summer beach song. And if you can't understand it, but you really wanna, google and translate the lyrics. ;) **

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

"**See" you soon... ;)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: And...we're back aboard The Love Boat! I don't expect this one to be **_**too**_** long, but we'll see. I'm not going to estimate chapters, lol. ;) To all of you guys who've been waiting for an update to this one, thanks for hanging in there. They should come more or less regularly now.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.**

**Seven Nights**

* * *

**Chapter 6 - Day Three: Prepping for The Date**

It's about four-fifteen in the afternoon. Edward and I parted company about a half-hour earlier. He headed up to his balcony suite, while I headed down to my little hole in the wall to shower and change into denim shorts and a tank top. We agreed to meet at six p.m., which would give us both sufficient time to "get ready."

Meanwhile, I've just wasted fifteen minutes of those precious two "get ready" hours with my forehead pressed up against one of the mega ship's huge windows, watching the captain complete the complicated maneuvers which back the ship out of port. We're leaving behind St. Thomas, and with it, the magic of Magens Bay, which was one of the prettiest beaches I've ever seen, on one of the best – and most confusing – days I've ever had.

The lush bay's waters darken from azure by the shoreline to a crystalline navy the further out we go. The rich, green mountains we traversed on our excursion just a short while earlier rise further in the distance. The entire scene is picturesque, almost surreal – like a landscape painting whose beauty has been exaggerated by a quixotic artist because _nothing_ can be that Utopian. There _have_ to be flaws, even when something appears idyllic.

There go ten more minutes as we sail away from land and into open seas. As the island dwindles and grows smaller and smaller, a deep sigh escapes me. No matter what, there are rules, laws, and regulations which go along with being on land. Not that the middle of the ocean is some sort of wild west, but I've noticed in the past couple of days that people – and in the term _people_, I include me – tend to shed a whole lot of inhibitions once they leave behind _Terra Firma._

Back home in Washington, as casually as I may have lived my life before Mom got sick, I would've never believed myself the type who would meet a guy and feel an instant…attraction, like in those stupid, cliché novels. Much less would I have believed myself the type to get drunk and almost have sex with that guy while still in a relationship with my current boyfriend – regardless of what a douche Quil was. Or the type to dump said douchebag boyfriend – again, regardless of his douchebaggery – and eagerly plan to jump into bed with the new guy the very same day. Yes, yes; Quil's douchebaggery was ninety-percent of the reason he got dumped, but let's be honest here; my lustful want of Edward was no small inducement.

Furthermore, I would've never thought I'd agree to a _faux_ date instead of just being up front and calling this what it is.

Because it _is_ just a hook-up, isn't it?

But then…what was that strange expression that marred Edward's features a short while earlier when I asked him up – or should I say down – to my room?

This is part of the reason why I've spent almost a half-hour now with my head pressed up against a window. When Mom and Dad convinced me to come on this cruise and then further made me promise not to call, this distraction…this _Edward_ was not something I expected.

Either way, Edward and I agreed he'd pick me up from my room at six for our _date_, and both the literal and figurative clocks are ticking. He wouldn't tell me where exactly on this huge ship we're going, and with so many options, it can be anything from a pig roast to a royal feast.

Though, I think I know Edward well enough by now to know he likes the quality stuff. He's no frilly sort, no, but he likes the good things, the finer things. He seems to be capable of affording the finer things. Take that damn suite, for example. Jesus. And he dresses better than does your average guy on this cruise – his Bermuda shorts are the type with the patterns on them, and his polo shirts have tiny polo players on their emblems. What's more, he and his friends dressed to the nines for the ship's first formal night last night, in tuxes and cocktail gowns for dinner at the ship's priciest steakhouse, while I wore a yellow summer dress and got drunk on sake at the sushi bar.

No. I highly doubt Edward is taking me to a shipboard hoedown while sporting denim cutoffs and a wifebeater. That was more Quil's style. And I have nothing that'll do for the type of night out I know Edward wants to show me, so that when we do end up in his room, or in mine, we can tell ourselves that this wasn't just a hook-up; it was a _fancy_ hook-up.

Or is it...something else?

Fuck. I don't know. I don't know, and I don't have time to puzzle it right now. I've wasted enough time. It's already a quarter to five as I sprint up the fancy, red-carpeted steps to the fifth floor, where all the shops are on this ship. With my all-buying sail-and-sign card in my back pocket and my cell phone in hand, I make my way from the stern of the ship and head toward the mid-atrium, scrolling through the phone. The first forty-eight hours of keeping my promise to Mom and Dad were hard, but they made a corresponding promise to only call me if something important came up. Between their promise, the past couple of days of sea and sun, and...and Edward, I'm not feeling quite as worried.

That's got to be a good thing, right?

Anyway, when I'm assured that there's nothing but non-urgent texts and social media nonsense on my phone, I re-pocket it and dash across the promenade, crisscrossing fellow passengers in various states of activity and inactivity, of dress and...relative undress. They stroll the deck drunkenly laughing after a day of sand and sun, carrying half-empty cocktail glasses or overflowing food trays. Some still wear damp cover-ups with residue from the island, exposed skin tanned and glistening with sweat or baby oil. Some ignore the brochure rules and completely eschew cover-ups, strutting around in board shorts and bikinis, while some have changed into their cruise ship wear, which are still meant to attract attention. A whole lot of them lounge around in one of the many loud bars or cafés catering to all manner of music and tastes. It seems that after a day at port, they've all returned to the ship massively chill yet anxious to be back on the modern-day, floating decadence for which they've paid various sized fortunes, surrounded by fellow self-indulgers and pursuers of hedonistic pleasures.

Non-existent inhibitions indeed.

And yeah, considering my plans for the night, I've got to include myself in here as well.

For a handful of seconds, I wonder what Quil, Leah, and Jake have been up to all day, if they've even left their rooms in their continuous, drunken stupors. It's a big ship, but I'm hoping I don't bump into them for the rest of the cruise, though I'll eventually have to see them on the plane ride home. And after Irina and I more or less took the gloves off on land, I'm equally hopeful I won't bump into her on this ship anytime soon.

Pushing them all out of my mind, I trek swiftly past the photo gallery, dart by the empty library which I assume is just here for show, pass yet more bars, and finally reach the duty-free shops, which sell everything from souvenirs and sundries to bathing suits, jewelry, and evening wear. It's this latter shop to which I'm headed, and I seem to be the first one here this afternoon since everyone else on board appears to be eating or drinking themselves into oblivion. The cruise line's brochure alerted me to the fact that all duty-free shops onboard must remain closed while we're in port and will only reopen once we've left land. It's becoming apparent that a whole lot of shit goes down once we leave land.

Upon initial visual inspection, I bite my lip warily because though I spot some options, none of them thrill me. There's your basic little black dress on a mannequin by the window. On another mannequin further in there's a long, pink gown with a billowy train which looks like it belongs at the Oscars. Then there's a royal blue, two-piece set which would look great on Queen Elizabeth.

I expel a long breath of building frustration as I head for the lone rounder mid-shop and shuffle through the plastic bag covered items. I'm about to pick up a pale, flesh-tone dress that kind of caught my attention when a deep voice speaks behind me.

"_Yasou, despoinída. _Good day, miss_. _May I help you?"

The salesman wears the crisp white polo and blue bottoms uniform of the ship's employees and has another one of those great accents I keep encountering from this ship's international staff. I read the name tag at my eye level – Dimitri from Athens.

"Hi, Dimitri. I've got it, thanks. I'm just looking for a dress for tonight."

He grins and displays a set of perfectly white teeth framed by a gorgeously deep olive complexion. Equally dark eyes take me in from head to foot before he carefully nudges me aside and begins pushing dresses along the rounder.

"Size six, 34 C bust-line, correct?"

"Uh, yeah," I reply instinctively and somewhat shocked.

"_Daxi, daxi. _Very good measurements_."_

"Thanks? Seriously, I-"

"May I ask if there is a special occasion you are celebrating? It might assist us in the selection process."

"Oh. It's a…uh…a…uhm…a…"

He stops rummaging long enough to offer me a thick, dark, raised eyebrow. Chuckling, I clear my throat.

"It's a date - a first date."

"Ahh." He nods. "The first date. Perfect. I will find you the perfect dress for the first date."

"Actually, I'd rather search for myself, if you don't mind."

"Nonsense. It is my job. Trust me, _despoinida_!"

His tone brooks no argument. And since he's basically blocking the rounder with his broad shoulders, it appears I have little choice for now.

"Uhm. Okay."

For the next few minutes, Dimitri hunts the rounder. He examines and inspects, scrutinizes dresses, then me, then back to the dresses and shakes his head. He lifts the plastic covers off the dresses then yanks them back down, sucking his teeth and speaking to himself in what I assume is Greek. He does this over and over until at last, a triumphant expression spreads across his classically chiseled, Grecian features.

"Aha! _Nai, nai._ How about this, _despoinida_?"

As Dimitri proudly flourishes what he's found, I have to squint my eyes against the glare.

"It is French designer," he gushes, "in gauzy lavender with a fitted bodice and an empire waist trimmed in genuine Swarovski crystals. The hemline is trimmed in French lace interlaid with more crystals, and-"

"I was looking for something a bit less…flashy."

He appears baffled. "But it is the first date, _nai_?"

"Yes, but I don't want to blind him." I chuckle, but Dimitri only stares at me. Again, I clear my throat. "Perhaps something less sparkly?"

Dimitri peers down at me through dark, disapproving eyes. Neither is the purse of his lips subtle as he set the dress back on the rack.

"No flash or sparkle. Okay, then," he says, his tone conveying the opposite. For another handful of long minutes, he re-examines the dresses on the rounder, mumbling to himself. When he pulls out another dress, he's reclaimed his good mood.

"Aha! Now, this is by a Spanish designer – a long-sleeved bodycon in the brightest red, with a square bodice and a hemline falling just above the knee before it poofs into layers and layers of ruffles!" He reaches out and ruffles the ruffles. "The heavy Lycra will hug your curvy silhouette like a glove, yet while sexy, it does not sparkle." Dimitri chuckles. "Nonetheless, he will definitely desire a second date with you in this dress."

I raise my brows, but Dimitri seems completely unaware of his wildly chauvinistic speech.

"You are speechless because you love it, am I right, _despoinida?_ This is the one, eh?"

I reach out and touch the dress, and though the material is smooth, it's heavy and restrictive as hell despite the Lycra.

"It's...pretty, Dimitri, but it feels as if it would be hard to pull on and take off."

Dimitri offers me a languid nod, the grin on his lips more of a smirk now. "Ahh. I begin to see clearly now. It is _that_ kind of the first date."

I stare at him. "Dimitri, I really think I can handle it from-"

With a long-suffering sigh, he sets the dress back on the rack and quickly locates a sheer black number that can barely be termed a dress, with a crisscrossing lace pattern that minimally covers the breasts and vagina areas.

"Whoa." I reel back.

He offers me a wink as he holds up this latest offering. "Italiano. That is all I will say." Nonetheless, he leans in and adds more in a whisper, "We must give it to the Italianos, _despoinída._ They know all about the _kánei érota_." As he pulls back, I have no idea what he's said, but the salacious look he gives me is a pretty good translator.

"All right, then, Dimitri. Thanks for your help, but I'll take it from here."

"You do not love the Italiano either?"

"No. I do not love the Italiano." Moving around him, I nudge him and reclaim my search. "I kind of wanted to get a better look at the pale, flesh-tone dress you shoved aside earlier. Here it is."

_"That?"_ He gasps in horror as I pull out the dress. "_Ochi!_ No! That is just some unimaginative, American thing! _Crepe,_" he says, though in his accent it sounds like _crap_, "with tacky, tropical bead detailing around the halter neckline, a commonplace open back with cut-in shoulders, and a boring A-line silhouette that falls midi-length. Oh, yes; the lining is silk. Big deal!"

"May I try it on?"

He openly scowls at me.

A few minutes later, as I stand on the box placed in front of the mirror just outside of the fitting room and twirl around in the dress, I'm in love. It's simple yet elegant.

"What do you think, Dimitri?"

His reply doesn't disguise the disgust in his expression. "You are beautiful, so I suppose the boring American frock will do for your _first date_," he spits. "But you would have looked glorious in the Italiano!"

Pleased by my reflection, I breezily laugh off the backhanded compliment. I check my phone and see that not only do I still have an entire forty-five minutes to get ready before Edward picks me up, but there are no missed calls on my phone, I'm now armed with the right dress, and I'm beginning to feel...sensual butterflies dancing in my stomach. Edward and I will have dinner somewhere or other on this ship, we'll finally get to the _kanei erota _part of the evening, and it's _all_ gonna be good.

That is until I check the price tag on the dress, and my breath hitches.

"Holy fuck." All sensual butterflies abandon me, and I look up accusingly at Dimitri. "Dimitri, why didn't you tell me this dress was two-thousand dollars?"

Dimitri offers me a dry shrug, inspecting his nails now that he's lost interest. "_Ochi. _No. It is not two-thousand dollars. It is one thousand, nine hundred and ninety dollars."

My shoulders sag. "Well, do you maybe have something similar for a bit less?"

His dark eyes narrow suspiciously. "How much less?"

"Oh, say…about one thousand, eight hundred and ninety dollars less?"

Dimitri's attractive olive color leaches from his face. "_Despoinida_, you should have warned me of your meager price range earlier! _You_ are in the wrong shop, and we have been wasting one another's time. If you are looking for something in _that_ price range," he twists his upper lip in disdain, "I suggest you take a trip to our souvenir shop, where you may be able to find a cover-up for about that price. _Adio_."

And with that, Dimitri turns on his well-polished heel and struts away from me.

"What an asshole," I mutter to myself as I shuffle off the damn box. Then I sigh. "It's almost five-thirty, I have no fucking dress, and I have no idea what, if anything, Edward wants from me tonight beyond a good fu-"

"Jasper, look! It's Bella!"

Looking over my shoulder, I catch Alice approaching as swiftly as someone her age can approach, while Jasper shuffles languidly behind her, already warning her in his hoarse, old man voice.

"Alice, don't start. I don't want to be late to Bingo!"

With a wrinkled, spotted hand, Alice waves off his warning. "Bingo Shmingo. Bella, you look beautiful!" When she takes my hand and twirls me around, despite my first-world problems, I can't help laughing. She laughs in return, bright blue eyes sparkling along with the sparkly blue dress she wears.

"Thanks, Alice. You look beautiful as well. I see you've been trying on dresses too. I was just...admiring that royal blue set when I walked in."

"Like she doesn't have enough of them suits at home. Hmph," Jasper harrumphs behind her.

I chuckle, while Alice ignores him and lifts her chin as high as any royal monarch, fluttering her eyelashes prettily as she performs a slow turn for the masses.

"Bravo!" I say, offering her a round of applause. "Her Royal Highness, Alice!"

"She's a royal something, all right," Jasper mutters.

When she stops twirling, she moves in closer to me and squints her blue eyes. "What's wrong, honey?"

"Nothing." I shrug. "It's just I have a date tonight-"

Her eyes grow wide, and the sparkle in her eyes takes a definite impish turn.

"A date! Please tell me it's with that gorgeous young man you were kissing on the bus?"

"Alice..." Jasper warns, but I chuckle.

"Yes. Yes, it's with Edward."

She claps her hands together, turning from side to side and looking more like an excited little girl now than a regal monarch.

"Oh my goodness! How exciting! Are you wearing that pretty dress?"

"No." Shaking my head, I smile wistfully. "I don't think so."

She frowns. "Why ever not? It's sublime on you!"

Jasper taps his watch. "Alice, stop being nosy! The girl doesn't want the dress, and Bingo is at 5:30 sharp!"

"Oh, hush, Jasper. Bingo can wait." She waves off Jasper's reminder. "What's the matter? Don't you like the dress?"

"It's more like...I can't afford it." I expel a snort. "Which is fine. I'll just wear one of my sundresses."

"See? She'll wear one of her sundresses. Now, go pay for your outfit, Alice, and let's get to Bingo. I don't want that Ben Cheney stealing my card again, the one with O-75 on the upper right-hand corner. That's my lucky card, and that damn Ben Cheney knows it yet keeps trying to steal it from me!"

"Oh, hush, Jasper!"

I chuckle quietly. "I'll see you both around. Have fun at Bingo."

After changing out of the dress, I spend a few minutes staring longingly at it in the dressing room. Then, I check my watch. It's five twenty-five, and I'm almost out of time. Exhaling, I pull open the changing room curtains.

Alice stands there, holding a garment bag folded in half, while Jasper stands behind her holding another garment bag and tapping his foot.

"All right, Alice, just hand her the bag so we can go."

My brow furrows while Alice grins and holds the garment bag out for me.

"Here you go, honey. They had another size six in the back."

"I don't under..." Then I gasp. "Oh, no, Alice. No. I appreciate it, but no. There's no way I can-"

"Oh, go on," she smiles. "Take the darn thing."

"Yes, take the darn thing so my nosy wife and I can go."

"Alice, I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I-"

"Young lady, quit while you're ahead. I been married to the woman for over sixty years, and trust me, you ain't winning. Alice, BINGO!"

Nonetheless, I'm adamant in my refusal. "No. Thank you, but-"

With an impatient huff, Alice curves one wrinkled hand around her hip. "Listen here, honey, do you have any idea how old I am?"

"Well..." Unwilling to hazard a guess, I bite my lip, making Alice laugh.

"I'm eighty-five, Bella. Now, do you know when was the last time an eighty-five-year-old woman had good sex?"

My eyes bulge. "Uhm…"

"Here's a hint," Jasper smirks, "the first Bush was still President. There. Now, for the love, Alice!"

"Oh, I'm not complaining," Alice grins. "When my Jasper and I were young, we were on fire! Seriously, they used to have to turn the hose on us."

"Oh, my God, Alice-"

"That's more than the girl wants to know, Alice, and it's five-twenty-eight, and my O-75 corner card is likely in Ben hands this minute!"

Alice presses on, unfazed by my shrieks or by the loss of Jasper's lucky card.

"We still have our moments, but the really good sex? The kind before arthritis and bad backs and bad hips set in? It's been a while, honey. I'm old, and I'm rich, and I donate to charities, and I go on cruises with my equally old, rich, and philanthropic husband-"

"Alice, the girl doesn't want to hear this!"

"And though God knows I love the old, ornery fart, it's been a long time since we made that bed shake like a rattle!"

When I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my face, trying my damnedest not to picture that, Alice snickers.

"It's the truth. So here's the deal I'm making you." She leans in close, and as old as she may be, she smells of soap and of roses. "Tonight, I'm going to live vicariously through you. That young man of yours is one hot stud, and tonight, while my Jasper snores next to me and moans in his sleep about how much I made him lose at Bingo-"

"And you can bet your wrinkled sweet cheeks I'll be moaning now!"

"-I'm going to pretend I'm you, Bella, wearing that dress, dining, dancing, and still young enough to party the night away with a fine, young man, who'll take me back to his room afterward and...well..." She pulls back with a saucy look that makes me laugh. "But I can't do any of that if _you're_ not wearing this dress. So do an old lady a favor," she grins impishly, "and take the dress."

While she holds the dress out again, I hold her gaze because I'm terrified that allowing my eyes to wander down to the dress will weaken my resolve. Abruptly, on the loudspeaker, Jessica the Entertainment Director announces the start of Bingo.

"Damn it, Alice! For the love of God, young lady! Take some pity on an old man if not on his equally old and intrusive wife! Accept the darn dress and maybe I'll still be able to find me the O-69 card!"

OOOOO

Three, even raps come on my cabin door just as I'm patting off excess lipstick in front of the tiny room's vanity mirror. My heart stops, and my eyes roam to the room's digital clock, which displays a time of six-oh-three p.m. He's not so early where he's considered desperate but he's definitely not so late I'll think him carelessly nonchalant. My heart resumes its function with a series of successive sighs. With one, final and hasty inspection of myself in the mirror, I'm satisfied sufficiently to take the few steps to the door as evenly as possible. When I pull the door open, I make no effort to suppress the impressed grin that spreads across my face because damn, the guy looks good.

He's wearing a dark blue suit that fits him so sublimely there's no way it's not custom-tailored to his specs. There was no awkward visit to Dimitri for him. The slim cut defines his broad shoulders, which taper down to a lean yet strong build, leading to narrow hips and ending with long, strong legs. His black shoes are polished to a shine Dimitri would be proud of, and a dark gray and equally slim tie lays perfectly straight over a crisp, white button-down shirt. He's holding flowers in one hand, but beyond the sweetness of the gesture, I couldn't care less about them.

Meanwhile, a slow, lopsided grin has spread across his own face as Edward's sea-green eyes skim me over with undisguised appreciation. He swallows, and for a few seconds, we unabashedly drink in the sight of one another. His ensuing chuckle breaks us out of our mutual stupor, with its low and throaty sound, which sends the most wonderfully decadent vibrations rolling through my very core.

"I wish I could think of something less cliché to say other than you look beautiful, but you look beautiful, Bella."

"I'm not such a feminist where I won't appreciate the compliment. You look beautiful too."

He snorts. "I'm not so ultra-masculine where _I_ won't appreciate that."

The ensuing moment of silence between is deliciously loaded with a sense of anticipation I never imagined.

He blinks and takes a breath, holding out the flowers - red roses. "These are for you; also cliché, I know." His sheepish smile as I take the proffered flowers and inhale their scent is sweetly endearing. "I hope you'll accept them in the spirit they were meant; as a way for me to express how honored I am that you agreed to this date."

"Wow. That little speech makes up for all the cliché-ness going on here."

Again, he chuckles. "Good."

"Let me just..." I jerk my jaw toward my room, "see if there's something for me to set these in."

As I walk in, I feel more than hear him follow. When the door slams behind us, and Edward grabs my free hand and swings me around, there's something ridiculously titillating about the way my dress swings with me, about the manner in which the smooth material brushes against my legs. Or maybe it's just my heightened senses because I knew he'd follow; of course, I knew. My mouth is already open and waiting when he cages my face between his hands and crashes his mouth to mine. The flowers fall to the wayside as I slide my hands through his hair, and he drops his hands to my bottom, crushing me against his frame. His heart thrums against mine while our tongues meet frenziedly and urgently. When he lifts me and pulls me in impossibly closer, we line up...just...right. I move my hand to his fly, and he pulls his hips away.

For one long moment, I can't form words. Our chests mutually heave, and we remain locked in one another's hungry gaze.

"Why are we doing this date thing again when we know exactly where this is leading?" I ask.

Edward quirks a brow. "_Do_ we know exactly where?"

"Don't we?"

His brow furrows, but he takes his time with a response. He sets me down carefully, smooths down the skirt of my dress with one hand while tenderly skimming his fingers through the length of my hair with the other. He gently unravels the tangles he just caused. All the while, his eyes follow the movement of his hand. His touch is addictive; soothing, and my eyes grow half-lidded, knees weak while he strokes and caresses. It's not until he draws in a deep breath and releases its warmth into the tight space between us that I realize the actions are meant to help us both regain our self-control.

He meets my eyes and grins. "I wouldn't say _exactly_. I get the feeling you and I are...anyway, haven't you heard of delayed gratification?"

I purse my lips. "We've delayed our gratification for _three days_."

"So what's a few more hours?"

"Painful."

He chuckles huskily, tracing my mouth with his thumb. "Do you think _I_ don't know that?" When he takes my hand and cups it around his erection, we both release low, guttural groans. He's hard as a rock, and I feel his length...and his thickness...

"Jesus, you're killing me," I breathe out when he pulls my hand away. His gaze is as hard as the rest of him, so intense he looks almost angry.

"You feel that?" he hisses. "You think I'm not literally _aching_ to bury that deep inside you?"

I hang my head, inhaling and exhaling through narrowed lips before I pass out.

"Bella, we could've had sex that first night, and that…would've been that. But I want to get to know you."

My eyes shoot up to his. And I still don't know what he wants from me because...it's only a seven-day cruise.

But his fingers dance up and down my spine. His touch makes me dizzy, light-headed; everything about him makes me want more. His proximity, his scent, his breath are all habit-forming. He lifts my chin with one finger and angles my head sharply upward, his mouth hovering just above mine.

"Besides," he breathes, "there are no words, cliché or otherwise, for how gorgeous you look. And I want to show you off," he grits.

I smirk at him. "Are you sure you're not ultra-masculine?"

He shrugs. "Call it what you want. I want _everyone_ on this ship..." he says, brushing his lips against mine, "to see us, and I want them to know..." he feathers ghost-like kisses against the corner of my mouth, "while they watch us eat, and drink, and dance, and talk, that after all that...after all that, _I'm_ the one who gets to share your bed tonight."

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**"See" you soon!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.**

**Seven Nights**

**Chapter 7: The Date**

* * *

"Edward, you're a damn liar," I laugh. "This restaurant was definitely _not_ advertised anywhere on the cruise line's brochure."

"You sure about that?"

Edward offers me a languid grin from across the cozy table for two. He's leisurely settled over his chair, long legs stretched out under him and occasionally bumping mine. Having made his point of what he does for a suit, he's removed his jacket and draped it neatly across the backrest, though like a true gentleman, he did offer it to me first, since we're outdoors. He's loosened his tie a bit, hair somewhat disheveled by the breeze, gaze serene. He exudes ease and confidence; not so much where he appears the least bit arrogant or indifferent, no. But he appears completely comfortable and laid-back.

However, while we talk, his hand roams restlessly over his tie, and he rakes his hair every once in a while, making me wonder on the true state of affairs. The outward tranquility can't possibly be an accurate gauge of what's going on inside the man. I, for example, with anticipation for what's to come running rampant, have every muscle in my system coiled tight, and I happen to know he's just as eager for me. I _felt_ his impressive eagerness quite recently, so I _know_ neither one of us is as cool, calm, and collected as we're both pretending to be.

That's not to say I'm uneasy; not at all. There's a broad spectrum between uneasy and on edge, and Edward's proximity sets me at the latter end; he heightens every one of my senses, makes me feel semi-drunk, wonderfully-lightheaded, and yes, uninhibited. And just like an inebriated individual, I feel as if I can do almost anything and damn the consequences; if indeed, there are any consequences to be damned. It's as if with every subsequent moment we spend together, with every conversation, with every shared laugh, the world beyond this ship grows smaller and smaller, just like the island we left behind a short while earlier.

"Bella, maybe the issue here is that you didn't read that brochure half as well as you think you did. Maybe you don't know exactly what's going on on-board this ship as well as you think you do."

He might be right. Nonetheless, there are a couple of things I do know this evening; One, is that there's nothing as sublime, as awe-inspiring, or as stunning as a sunset viewed from a cruise ship in the middle of the Caribbean, while one enjoys an indulgent dinner with a breathtaking man. The other...

Grinning just as easily as he, I lean across the table. "Edward, this intimate, outdoor restaurant set all the way in the front of the ship's top deck and hidden in a quiet, little alcove away from everything and everyone is _not_ listed anywhere on the cruise line's brochure. It's not a perk one forgets reading about." When I quirk an eyebrow, Edward chuckles.

"You're right. You're right. This isn't in there. This place is only here for those who know it's here."

"And, of course, you know."

He holds my gaze enigmatically, and while he withholds an immediate reply, a vague thought crosses my mind. I wonder if he's ever brought another girl on a "date" to this secluded, 'only for those in the know' spot, even if on a different cruise ship. Maybe he had this table on this particular cruise reserved already, originally meant for Irina and him. After all, he's already admitted that before he met me, his plan was to hook up with her.

Before these questions and thoughts can take too much root, I push them aside because they really don't matter,. Either way, _I'm_ the one here.

When Edward does finally respond, he leans into the table so that only a handful of inches separate our mouths. He takes my hand, and now, this close, I note his gaze is no longer insouciantly calm; it's dark, intensely piercing, and he exhales his ensuing question so quickly between us it's as if he's already answered it in his head, and the asking is just a formality.

"Bella, what was it you told me earlier that your dad said?"

When I tilt my head sideways, brow furrowed, he does indeed answer his own question.

"You said he said 'When you know...you know.'"

"Ahh," I nod. "That. Well, he wasn't referring to knowing about a hidden, little gem of a VIP restaurant onboard a cruise ship."

His mouth opens, closes, and he swallows. A handful of seconds transpire, as if he's waiting on me.

"What?" I chuckle.

After a few more seconds, Edward snorts and chuckles lightly in return. Pulling away from the table, he keeps my hand in his but resumes his mellow stance.

"No, your dad wasn't referring to a restaurant, was he? More wine?" He signals for our private sommelier, who awaits somewhere behind me.

For a couple of heartbeats, I feel as if I've missed something. But the feeling quickly dissipates because Edward's lazy grin returns, and because of the wine, and because despite the privacy of our alfresco, white table-clothed table, there's too much going on both around and inside me. Across the ocean yet so near I'm sure I can touch it, the sun continues its nightly ritual. I'm almost torn by where to lay my focus because there was no menu; our personal chef prepares our meal table-side based on the day's freshest selections from our stop in St. Thomas. All the while, behind the chef, and with deceiving languidness, the coral-toned orb glows and bleeds its tropical shades into the sky. A heavenly arch forms as the sun glimmers and ripples then slowly descends into the awaiting sea, the arch's golden glow as potent as the wine.

Then...there's Edward. Despite the resplendent sunset and the chef's skillful wielding of cooking tools and a sautée pan, it's Edward who commands my attention. Not merely because of how the fading sunlight dances like a sprite across his hair, or because of how it brings out the flecks of gold in his sea-green eyes or because of how its glow seems to radiate off of every inch of him...it's the way he takes me in through those hypnotic eyes. It's how he grins at me, how one hand plays with that tie while he holds mine firmly inside the other, thumb slowly caressing my knuckles, mimicking the evening breeze's caresses against my bare arms and legs.

And all the while, the sun feigns hesitation as it dips its rounded edges into the dark waters, as it pulls its magnificent colors with it, so that for a while, the sea gains the sun's gleaming rays while the sky protests the imminent loss by flaring into a beautifully bewildered chaos.

OOOOO

Between enjoying our meal and sipping our wine, we talk and laugh. Dessert is flambéed beside our table, the blue-tinged, dancing burst of flames framed by the mash-up of blue, white, tangerine, and every pigmented variation in between dappling and streaking across the heavens. He releases my hand while we're eating, but when the food is all gone, and the table cleared of all but our wine, he takes my hand again.

"What else, Bella?"

"What else?" I echo, throwing my head back and rolling my eyes. "I feel as if I've told you my life story already, and it's not that impressive. You must be bored. Are you sure there's nothing else you'd rather get to?" I ask, dropping my voice suggestively.

He offers me a crooked grin, gazing at me intently once more, that light-show in the water and in the sky reflected in his sea-green irises.

"I'm not at all bored. Tell me about this Lit major. Do you have plans to publish a number one best-selling novel someday?"

"That was the plan," I confirm wryly, "once. I had it all vaguely mapped out in my head. I was going to travel the world while I wrote - a psychological thriller of some sort, that part wasn't clear or important." I dismiss it with a wave, and Edward chuckles. "What _was_ clear and important was that I was going to be filthy rich, build more inspiration from all the amazing sights I'd see, write some more, and then get richer."

His eyes sparkle with mirth, yet my ensuing snort admittedly holds some self-derision.

"What an immature, shallow plan, huh? Scheming on ways to get rich as if living that sort of life, being that sort of person somehow makes you happy...or ensures your health, or ensures anything of value, for that matter."

"Money doesn't necessarily make someone...a shallow person," he says carefully after a pause, "not if you make sure you remain grounded where it counts."

I quickly realize my mistake. Once I'm done cringing, I offer him an apologetic smile.

"Edward, I didn't mean to imply...I mean, don't take this to mean I care one way or the other, but I've noticed you appear to be financially well-off, and I didn't mean to imply that you're shallow - or not."

"I do...okay," he confirms with a magnanimous chuckle. "But honestly, it's more that I love what I do, and I happen to be good at it, and I was lucky enough to grow up in the right city for just such a career."

"You enjoy living in Miami?"

"I love Miami," he confirms with a broad grin. "I mean, yeah, there are plenty of shallow people there-"

"Stop," I snap playfully. "I didn't mean it that way."

He snickers. "But there are plenty of good people too. And besides the vibrancy of the music scene that's vital for my career, there's great weather and blue skies; there's the history of the Art Deco district; the beauty of the Everglades; there's Biscayne Bay and the culture of its museums and memorials, and yeah, there's South Beach and-"

"-And a whole lot of half-naked girls in bikinis," I add.

He rolls his eyes. "I was going to say 'sand and sun.'

"Ahh," I laugh, nodding. "You've sold me. Maybe I should visit Miami one of these days."

"Maybe you should."

"Besides, I want to hear these beats you create."

"Then you will," he agrees easily. "Bella, I won't say that I don't enjoy the money because obviously I do," he smirks, making me laugh again, "but it's secondary to me."

"Edward, my mom and dad graduated high school, got married, had me, and worked odd jobs in between camping and hiking the Olympic Mountains until they decided 'What the hell? Let's see if we can give tours of these here mountains.' And you know what? They were- they _are_ good at it, just as you're good at creating your beats. But _they've_ never made a fortune from it."

"I guess sometimes it's the luck of the draw." When he offers me a somewhat abashed shrug, I feel like shit.

"That's not even what I meant. My point is they're perfectly happy, while I always thought they were fucking insane, busting their butts and staying in that one-horse town. When I left for Seattle like my ass was on fire, they paid for my school and accepted my major without a word. I told you that...when Mom got sick, I didn't begrudge helping _her_, but that wasn't entirely true." Edward squeezes my hand wordlessly. "I begrudged the shitty-paying tour business I had to help with now."

"Bella, your parents sound like great people. I'm sure that if it's not something you want to do for the long haul, there are other ways-"

"You know what? Just how you're great at creating your beats, I'm a great tour guide. I enjoy taking people hiking and exploring around those mountains so much more than I ever thought I would. This sunset here? Yeah, it's gorgeous, but so is the sun setting behind the snow-peaked, Olympic range. You have to see it someday, Edward."

"Maybe I will," he murmurs.

"Even if," I shut my eyes for a moment and swallow, "even _when_ Mom recovers..." Again, Edward squeezes my hand, and somehow, I know he understands how I appreciate that so much more than empty reassurances, "Even when Mom recovers enough to resume her tours, I don't think I'll stop; at least, not completely. There are other areas of the business I'd love to explore, sure, but I'd still like to continue giving tours."

"So...you see yourself remaining in Forks, Washington on a permanent basis."

"Who knows? I find I don't dislike the one-horse town half as much as I used to, and _that," _I stress,_ "_is my point. "I'm not so focused on the big bucks anymore, though I can appreciate their use. _Thank you_ for this wonderful dinner."

"You're more than welcome," he says softly.

"Can you believe even this dress I'm wearing was a gift from someone with big bucks?" I chuckle.

Edward's eyebrow quirks. "Was it? From who?"

"From my friend, Alice. You met her this afternoon on the bus back from Magens Bay, remember? The old lady?"

"Ahh," he nods. " I remember Alice. She was...humorous."

"She found _you_ to be a 'hot stud,' as she put it."

"Please tell me she didn't say that." His cheeks take on a ruddy hue, and I make a quick decision to censor the part of the tale where Alice planned to live my sexual experience vicariously with him tonight.

I snort. "She sure did. But she's a nice person, and she's super generous, so no, I don't believe all rich people are shallow."

"Well," his thumb strokes the inside of my wrist as he murmurs tenderly, "you would've looked great no matter what you wore tonight, Bella, but if buying you that dress made an old lady happy, and if it further confirmed for you that money isn't necessarily the root of _all_ evil," he grins, "then I'm glad she bought you that dress. And now..."

When he stands and helps me up, my heart races. Behind him, the setting sun bathes him in a golden halo. He moves us closer to the railing and pulls me close, and my heart stutters.

"Now...what?" I breathe with a smile.

He chuckles huskily, guiding my arms around his shoulders before he curves his hands around my hips.

"Now, Miss Swan, I believe you and I started a dance the other night before we were...rudely interrupted," - he growls at the fleeting reminder of Quil and his douche-baggery - "and _I'd_ like to finish that dance."

I can't help laughing. "What exactly are we going to dance to in this sweet little private corner you've brought me to? We can barely hear the band playing a few decks down."

"That's all right." As soon as he finishes speaking, his eyes pan away over my shoulder, and the soft, tropical sounds of steel drums and a guitar resound behind me.

"No," I exhale in shock as I look over my shoulder and spot the duo playing for us. "No, Edward. You didn't."

"Why not?"

With his hands on my hips and my hands at the nape of his neck, we move to the rhythmically sensual beats of the Caribbean.

"If and when you ever get married, how do you plan to top this?" I tease.

"If and when I ever get married, I'll figure it out."

The duo finishes a couple of songs before they switch over to a slower, reggae beat. Edward turns me around, my spine against his chest, and grinds against me languidly as I arch against him.

"Tell me more about you," I breathe, circling my arm behind me and around his neck and turning my head sideways to him.

His nose skims up and down my temple. "Such as?"

"Such as your relationship with your brother."

"We're close."

"I can tell," I smile. "How about your parents? Do you get along with them too?"

He draws in a deep breath, exhaling it against my neck, and my eyes shutter for a moment. All the while, he moves against me.

"I judge my parents based on one major event in Emmett's and my young lives. When he was thirteen, and I was nine, he came out to my mom."

"What did she do?" I ask, holding my breath.

"She told my dad, and together, they threw him a coming out party and invited all of Emmett's friends and my parents' friends. My parents then told him that whoever came to the party were people he'd likely be able to count on for the rest of his life."

"And those who didn't?"

"Those who didn't come would be either because they honestly had something else of vital importance going on that day or they were people he'd never be able to trust or count on. And they vowed that for the rest of their lives, they'd be there to help us both figure out the difference."

"They sound amazing," I say after a pause.

"No more than yours do, Bella. But I suppose neither one of us can complain much about our parents or our childhoods. And with any luck..." he flips me around, "for _both_ of us..." his eyes flash to my cellphone, which has remained face up on the table throughout our entire date, "they'll be there for us for a while."

I smile softly up at him, and then angle upward, feathering my lips against his because...he just gets it.

"Come on," he breathes against my mouth.

"Where?" I grin.

He chuckles and turns me to face the railing, once again pressing his chest against my back, sliding his arms around my waist, and weaving his fingers through mine. He rests our entwined hands on my stomach.

"Look."

And at that very moment, the sun completes its nocturnal tease with a sudden nosedive, with an abrupt horizontal flash that explodes onto every surface above and below before it completely disappears with a quiet flicker.

"Jesus, that was a beautiful sight," I murmur.

When I turn my head sideways and up, his sea-green eyes are on me. "It sure was."

The duo has stopped playing and disappeared, and we're half-bathed in darkness now. Edward disentangles his hands and skims the tips of his fingers up and down my sides.

"Rest your head on my shoulder and close your eyes until I tell you to open them."

"Why?"

"You'll see."

I offer him a wry grin before I do as he says. The breeze tickles my cheeks as I wait, and all the while, Edward's fingers tickle my sides. I'm not even sure how much time has passed when he whispers in my ear.

"All right, Bella. Open your eyes."

I open my eyes to a navy sky littered with thousands, millions, _billions_ of tiny lights. My breath leaves me in a long gust, and for one long moment, I can't even speak.

"Actually, this reminds me of a pivotal scene in a certain movie about a ship whose maiden voyage ends badly."

Edward chuckles huskily, the vibration of it reaching all the way into my chest.

"Well...I'll admit I may have gathered some inspiration from that scene."

I turn my head sideways up to him and cup his cheek. "Are you the king of the world, Edward?"

He swallows, and his grin disappears, green eyes dark and intense once more. "Right now, Bella, yeah; yeah, I sort of feel as if I am."

He leans in and captures my mouth in a slow, hungry kiss, sucking on my lips, and for an endless moment, we kiss...and kiss...while I cradle his cheek and his hands roam up and down my body. And all the while, I feel him...right behind me, and I know, even before he speaks, that the wait is over.

He pulls away with a gasp and a series of successive sighs, chest heaving, voice rough and ragged. "I can't wait anymore."

I hold his gaze, committing the moment...his face...his touch to memory while above him, the moon makes its appearance.

"I know."

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**I think we've ALL waited enough, huh? ;)**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**"See" you soon!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts!**

**I had a horrible time posting this chapter earlier. Instead of getting into it, let's just say the problem is resolved (I hope!), and though I don't usually like posting late at night, if I don't post it now, it's not going to happen for a few days.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.**

**Seven Nights - Chapter 8: The Date, Pt. II**

* * *

'_Bella, walk, don't run!'_

A poignantly-sweet childhood memory of my mom yelling out that particular plea flickers through my mind. It adds to the surreal enchantment of Edward and I sprinting hand-in-hand through the colossal cruise ship's glittering decks, like Hansel and Gretel skipping carelessly through magical woods, head on toward mischief of the best kind. At turns, we kiss; at turns, we laugh. We pass fellow passengers draped languidly on stools at the piano bar, snapping picture after picture. Our excitement must be palpable because when we cross them, they shoot pictures of _us_ and grin knowingly. I vaguely wonder what those pictures will be labeled later.

All the while, I allow Edward to lead the way because I have no clue how to get where we're going on this ship and because in the past few days, I've come to…trust that he does.

Yet as eager as we admittedly are, every few feet, Edward stops, turns, and draws me near, winding his arm around my waist. He slides a hand around my nape, guiding my mouth to his, and then we kiss…and kiss, while the ship's lights glimmer behind my closed eyelids, while his mouth consumes me, his touch burns me, and his entire being holds me in a trance.

"You know, between these little stops and the size of this ship," I breathe against his mouth, "we'll never make it back to your room."

"Oh yeah, we will." His voice is low and husky. "Come on; I know a shortcut."

"Of course, you do." I chuckle as he tugs me along, every few seconds turning to check on me, on my heels, offering me a provocative grin and more of those kisses. We cut through a restaurant mid-deck, full of passengers cutting into expensive steaks and sipping wine while the wait staff walks around with harried expressions as they balance their trays. I almost pity all of them and their belief that they know a good time on this ship.

"Sorry. Excuse me. Excuse me. Sorry." Edward zig-zags us around frustrated waiters, crowded tables, and curious patrons, while I laugh and laugh.

On the other side of the deck, we reach an elevator bank, where there's an empty, waiting elevator. As soon as the doors close, he pushes me against the mirrored back, eyes dark and almost predatory as he cages my face between his hands, then circles them around my neck, then lifts his long thumbs to hold my mouth open for him. His mouth devours mine, hips pinning me against the mirrored wall as he clasps my hands over my head and…and when I see his reflection on the mirrored doors, the way he moves against me…I throw back my head and arch and-

And the elevator pings. Still, Edward only releases me as the doors open, innocently taking my hand. Even so, with our heavy breaths and disheveled appearance, we're not fooling most of the perceptively wide-eyed people waiting on the other side, except for perhaps a young boy who questions his unfortunate mom as they walk in.

"Mommy, why are that lady's lips so red and swollen?"

"Uhm…"

"I'm so sorry." I whisper the apology then shriek as Edward yanks me away.

There are no more stops for impromptu kisses or curious looks as we walk hand-in-hand down the wide, brightly-lit hallway of suites. My heart hammers when we stop, and he swipes his key card, the click as the door unlocks unnaturally loud, echoing down the long corridor. For a second, I'm sure everyone on the floor knows what's about to happen in Suite 1107.

And I find I don't care.

"After you," he whispers, holding the door open for me. His jaw is rigid, squared, and angular. There's no hint of humor remaining in his features. His gaze, once again dark and intense, sends a thrilling shiver racing up my spine.

Nonetheless, when I raise my face to his and brush my lips against his lips, he exhales a series of uneven breaths into my mouth.

The recessed lighting goes on automatically. When the suite is bathed in light, it's even more luxurious than I recalled. Last night, I was admittedly drunk, and this morning, I was nervous and hungover. The windowed wall looking out on the balcony greets me front and center, and though the curtains are open, the darkness beyond lends the room the illusion of utter and complete privacy from the world. It's as if we're in our own little black hole. The plush carpet gives under my heels as I make my way to the nightstand and set down my phone, then proceed to the balcony doors. When I turn and look over my shoulder, Edward is still by the front door.

"May I step out there?" I ask.

"Of course," he murmurs.

I pull the glass door and leave it open. Outside, the full moon glows against the blackness and reflects off of the equally sable ocean, almost making it seem like there are two Siamese moons out tonight. My eyes take in the vast horizon, stretching endlessly from end to end, and I wonder if the suites to our far left and right have the same magnificent views. There are high walls on either side, blocking them from our view…and us from theirs.

I rest my arms against the railing while waves lap gently in the ebony waters, contrasting ivory froth rippling back and forth. The breeze whips up my hair. It strokes my neck like heavenly fingers skimming my shoulders…under the strings of my halter neckline…gently unraveling them…

When the strings come undone, I exhale in a heady rush as the dress cascades to the floor like one of the gentle ocean waves. I hear his hitch of breath behind me, and then a handful of wonderful seconds pass during which I don't physically feel him, but I know he's there. He stands behind me, watching me, his warm, heavy breaths washing against my nape.

All the while, I stand there, heart thrumming. When his fingertips tickle a ghostlike pattern up and down my arms, my eyes fall closed. It's beyond tantalizing. It's a feeling of building arousement I've never known, never imagined. As he unclasps my strapless bra, his mouth hovers next to my ear, and he holds the bra in place for a moment.

"Bella, no one can see us here."

"Can they hear us?" I ask, though by that point, I'm not sure I care.

"It depends on how quiet...or how loud we intend to be."

Inhaling and exhaling through narrowed lips, I hang my head as he releases my bra, and it hastily joins my dress.

"Edward…" I breathe shakily, "touch me…"

Warm hands curve around my breasts as he pulls me against him, and I release a long sigh of relief into the ocean air, throwing back my head and resting it on his waiting shoulder. His hands cup and knead, mouth on my neck, murmured words raising every fine hair on my body.

"I…I had to commit this to memory first…our first…you look so beautiful...so _perfect_…"

"Touch me…please…please…"

In another lifetime, I'd probably be mortified by the pleading quality of my voice, but shame is the last thing I feel at that moment.

His hands skim downward, pressing hard against me, urging me closer against him.

"Where, Bella? Where?"

"Put your fingers…put them…" I squirm against him, and this time when he replies, his words are as strangled as mine.

"Where, Bella? Where do you want me to touch you? Where do you want my fingers?"

"Put them where I've been dying to feel them since the first time you touched me…since the first time we danced…since _ohhh_…"

Without pause, one hand continues the downward spiral and pushes aside my thong.

The teasing is over.

He dips a finger inside me, and we both groan. I shut my eyes, bearing down with a quiet whimper while he kisses my neck, my shoulder, my nape, while one hand squeezes and molds and the other cups me, finger moving rhythmically. I undulate against him like a wave, my quiet susurrations floating out into the sea.

When I open my eyes and look up, the full moon watches us like a voyeuristic eye.

"Oh, baby. You look so beautiful like this…so beautiful letting me touch you out here."

"Edward…Edward…"

The rhythm quickens as my whimpers grow louder. When he suddenly turns me around, I'm disoriented and bewildered.

"What…?" I heave. "Why…?"

"Oh, no, my love. That was just a taste." He grins as he picks me up and carries me to the California King bed, already turned down for the evening. "Not yet."

Shoving aside the towel art – a turtle? - he sits on the edge of the bed. With agitated hands, we untie his tie. Then, as I unbutton the top buttons to his shirt, he unbuttons the bottom buttons. Designer or custom made, both pieces get discarded in the same careless manner of my dress. His bare skin is sublime, arms sinewy and muscular. I stroke and squeeze while our mouths meet, and his finger dips under the thong string along my hip.

"Stand up," he hisses in my ear. When I do, he slips his fingers under the strings and pushes them down. All the while, he holds my gaze, even as I reach out and unbuckle his belt, undo his fly, and push down his pants and underwear together.

I can almost hear both our hearts pounding as he sits back on the bed and takes my hands. Eyes piercing and voracious, he pulls me along with him, sliding back while I kneel and follow. His back hits the headboard, and for a few seconds, we remain perfectly still, my hand in Edward's hand as I kneel beside him. When he smiles, it's as much a nervous smile as it is sensual. I lean in and brush my lips gently against his.

"Enough delayed gratification?"

He chuckles. "More than enough."

We say nothing else he helps me straddle him and holds on to my hips as I sink slowly and stretch around him.

A low, guttural groan escapes Edward.

"Don't move," he commands, voice gruff, while I anchor my hands on his shoulders and fight against every instinct telling me to do the total opposite.

"Edward," I breathe, "please…"

"Just lemme…" he swallows, holding me prone, "lemme feel your…_God...o_kay. Okay." Drawing in a deep breath, he tightens his grip on my hips, and then slowly lifts me.

_"Ohhh..." _we both exhale.

Then he guides me back down with the same delicious languidness.

My mouth falls open.

For one long moment, no sound erupts.

When it does, it's a sound that echoes off the walls and through the open balcony doors. It joins the ocean's swell. Edward and I ebb and flow together to the same rhythm. Who hears what, neither he nor I care. Undeniable chemistry and friction take over. We move fast, then slow; kiss hard, then soft. His mouth puckers gently around my breasts; my teeth bite his neck. We groan and sigh. At times, we gaze at one another. At times, his eyes are too intense for me to bear.

At some point, Edward pushes me on my back, and as he thrusts, the moonlit sky frames him like a nebulous cloak. I wind my legs around his back, dig in my heels, and when it becomes too much, my cries reverberate across the deep, vast ocean. Edward follows close behind with a series of grunts, which are lost at sea.

Afterward, we kiss softly, stroking damp limbs, and reveling in the afterglow with satiated sighs and hums. Edward's body is wonderfully heavy on mine as he rests his head on my shoulder, chest heaving. I play with his soft hair. After a few minutes, one arm releases me only long enough to yank a blanket out from under us. He covers us tightly, forms a cocoon, and all the while, the ocean continues its rolls and ripples.

When he lifts his head and meets my eyes, he grins impishly.

"So, was that worth the delayed gratification?"

I chuckle, arching my back. He chuckles along with me.

"Edward, you never struck me as the type who needs that type of reassurance."

"Usually, I don't," he replies, more like the innately confident man I've come to know. "It's just…" his thumb traces the outline of a nipple, eyes on his action then flashing back up to mine, "you're quiet."

I quirk a brow. "Do you make a habit of holding long and deep conversations afterward?"

His eyes fill with mirth once more. "Well, no. Not _deep_ conversation."

"Ahh, I see," I nod. "You're used to girls going, 'Oh my God, oh my God, Edward!'" I shriek and fan myself. "'Edward Masen, that was the best sex I've ever had!'"

He laughs hard and rolls his eyes. "Never mind."

When he starts to pull away, I chuckle and wrap my arms around his neck, trapping him. He's got a few, damp strands of hair falling over his forehead; they lend him a quixotic, innocent sort of look.

"Edward...that really was the best sex I've ever had. Better than I could've ever imagined."

Strangely enough, this doesn't seem to be the answer he was waiting for. The mirth in his eyes dissipates, and his gaze is suddenly...inscrutable.

"Good. I'm glad."

When he pulls back again, this time I release him. He sets his head on the pillow instead of back on my shoulder, and for a moment, I'm baffled. It only lasts a moment, though because Edward reaches for me and flips me sideways so that my head rests on his chest. Relieved, I easily wind my arms around him, settling in against his strong frame. He kisses the top of my head, brushes his lips back and forth, and for a long while, we remain that way.

And all the while, I struggle to keep things in perspective because...it's only a seven-day cruise. No, I wasn't lying or exaggerating when I told Edward that it was the best sex I've ever had. But the truth is…if I'm not careful, my mind might turn it all into _more_.

I lift my head off his chest for a moment and check my phone on the nightstand, settling back beside Edward when I confirm there are no messages.

"Everything good?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Good." He breathes the word with feeling rather than as just an empty platitude, and that's just one of the many reason I have to be careful here. Pressing a firmer kiss to my head, he places a finger under my chin and lifts my head so that my eyes meet his. Edward doesn't speak right away. When he does, I get the feeling what he says isn't what he'd intended to say.

"Bella, do you have plans for tomorrow?"

"You mean when we land at St. Marteen?"

He nods.

"No." I smile. "I didn't plan much for this vacation."

When he nods again, it's as if he's explaining something to himself as much as to me. "I suppose you've been overwhelmed a bit back home, and you figured you'd just...wing it and take it easy this cruise."

My eyes hold his. "Yes, Edward. Yeah. That's exactly what I thought."

"I didn't exactly plan for everything either." He murmurs the words before taking a deep breath and grinning again, nodding decisively. "But I did plan for tomorrow. We've got an excursion to a friend's boat if you'd like to join us."

"That sounds like fun."

"Good. And even though I know you've got your own room, I think it would make more sense if you stayed here tonight and got some rest. You know, instead of having to put your clothes on again, so we could go searching the ship for your room all the way down in steerage."

Now, my back arches again as I laugh. "Oh, _now_ you don't know your way around the ship. Before, we were taking short cuts all over the place."

He chuckles impishly, sea-green eyes sparkling. "I'm only thinking of your comfort here."

"So thoughtful," I smirk. "And some rest, huh?"

"Well, I said _some_ rest; I didn't say exactly how much or how little." His grin morphs into something much more salacious, and the return of his teasing eases the tension that was beginning to take hold in me.

With a sigh, I lift myself higher and wrap my arms around his neck, brushing my lips to his, thinking of how _easy_ it would be to take this for more than it is; it would be almost as easy as...breathing.

"Edward, I think that's a great idea."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

*****Guys, let me know if this posted properly! (Fingers crossed!) Thanks!*****

**So...the deed is done but there seems to be some miscommunication going on. Hm.**

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**"See" you soon!**


	9. Chapter 9 When in Rome

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**Been sick with the flu. Feeling better today, so I wrote up to what I think (hope) is a decent cut-off point. There was a teaser that doesn't show up here yet, but we'll get to it. :)**

**Chapter 9 - Day Four: On Shore at St. Maarten**

* * *

**When in Rome...**

"Don't worry...about a thing..."

Laying back against the plush throw pillows on the circular cushion, I sing along with Bob Marley while I watch Edward through the glass windows.

"...cuz every little thing..."

He's inside the boat - as he had the nerve to call this thing - with his friend, Tyler. Tyler seems as cool a guy as most of Edward's other friends; though I haven't really spent much time with him. We went jet-skiing for a while, right in the middle of the sea. But he and Edward have been in there for a bit since we returned, both of them with oversized headphones on as they mess with some equipment, hit buttons and move knobs up and down and make a whole lot of hand gestures. All of it is obviously music related, yet their technical meaning completely eludes me. They move their shoulders and sway rhythmically, but it doesn't match the Bob Marley song I'm listening to, so they must be hearing something completely different.

When Edward looks up and catches me watching him, he shoots me a radiant smile that instinctively makes me smile in return. In my periphery, I see Tyler is still talking to him, and when he taps Edward's shoulder hard, leaning in with a grin and saying something that makes Edward's already sun-kissed cheeks flame, I laugh aloud when they start scuffling like little boys. Then, with a wink for me, Edward returns his attention to Tyler.

"...gonna be all right. Singing don't worry...about a thing..."

Sighing, I shut my eyes and turn my face up to the fierce, St. Maarten sun. Every few minutes, the rays that are shining directly overhead and on my bare skin grow in intensity; to be perfectly honest, they become a bit overwhelming for someone like me, who isn't accustomed to such extreme balminess. Luckily, among the many comforts of the two-person wicker daybed on which I'm laying is a built-in, retractable shade that curls all the way around the frame. I assume this is for when one is in need of a few minutes of respite from the utter perfection that is spending the day yachting around the pristine coastline of one of the Caribbean's most gorgeous islands while a handful of attendants cater to your every whim, and while island music blasts in the background, making you sway like one of the breezy palm trees dotting the verdant shoreline.

And while you daydream of the previous night, which you spent having the best sex of your life over and over...and over.

"...cuz every little thing gonna be alright. Rise up this mornin', smiled with the risin' sun..."

I'm humming the rest when a shadow suddenly blocks both the sun's heat and the scarlet imprint it leaves behind my shuttered eyelids. I assume it's an errant cloud until a pair of warm lips brush against mine and sing against my mouth.

"...cuz every little thing gonna be all right."

His lips taste of the island rum we've been consuming all day in drinks, in pastries, or just plain old straight up. With my eyes still closed, my other senses are heightened, and as we alternate soft kisses with hungrier nips, I note to myself that despite all the other mediums through which I've recently consumed rum, it's never tasted as good as it does on Edward's lips.

He pulls back, and I open my eyes as Edward takes a seat beside me on the cushion. He's holding a drink in each hand, one of those guavaberry ones I've become hooked on, and a rum and coke for him.

"Sorry if I was gone for a bit."

"No worries," I smile with a shrug, taking the proffered guavaberry drink. "What were you doing in there?"

"You'll see," he replies vaguely. "You look hot out here."

"Thank you," I grin. "You look pretty hot too."

He chuckles, and though the previous drinks I've consumed may have loosened my tongue, I'm neither drunk nor exaggerating. The sun framing him makes his eyes glow, while the bit of color he's caught over the past few days magnifies the golden flecks in his sea-green irises. His bare chest and shoulders are sun-kissed, which make the dark smattering of freckles he has pop. The golden wisps of chest hair trailing below his abs shine like soft silk before disappearing into navy swim trunks. He'd make a picture-perfect perfume ad in this setting.

"I meant you look like you need a break from the sun," he clarifies.

"Ahh." Sipping my drink, I offer him a shrug. "So not so much a compliment as simply telling me I look sweaty. Well, _I_ meant you look _hot_."

He offers me a languid, crooked grin, his cheeks taking on more color again as he leans in and whispers close to my ear.

"Says the girl who looks so fiery in her red two-piece that I've been sporting a semi all day and counting palm trees to keep it from turning into a full-fledged hard-on."

I laugh heartily, pulling back. "Now that right there is a first-world problem if I ever heard one. Counting palm trees," I echo with a snort. "And no, don't try to make up for your _faux-pas_ now by lying." My eyes dip between his legs, but unfortunately, from this angle, his drink eclipses my view.

"You think I'm _lying _about that?" he challenges.

I quirk a brow. "I can't tell."

In the next moment, he snatches away the drink he just gave me and sets it along with his on the side table, next to my cell phone.

"Hey!"

Though I'm laughing as he hitches up higher on the cushion and begins pulling down the retractable shade around us, my pulse jumps. Meanwhile, Bob sings another mellow song in the background.

_'Could you be loved...and loved?"_

"Hey, hey, hey! What are you two doing?" Emmett calls out from his own two-person daybed across from us. Nonetheless, I get no opportunity to reply and rather shriek instead when the shade completely cocoons us, and Edward covers my body with his. And when without preamble he slides a hand through my hair and slips a finger inside me, the shriek morphs into a quiet whimper.

"Four hundred and sixty-seven damn palm trees," he growls roughly against my mouth, while his finger moves rhythmically in and out...in and out...and I roll my hips and arch my back to his rhythm, my insides coiling tightly, already on the verge of snapping.

_'Could you be loved...and loved?"_

"Edward..." I breathe. "Edward..."

"You want me to stop, baby?"

"Hell no."

When I throw my head back, Edward pushes aside one of the triangles of my top with his jaw and sucks and...and I can no longer think, much less speak. He could push himself inside me here and now, and I wouldn't stop him. Heavy and uneven breaths escape me as his mouth skims from triangle to triangle, and his finger continues its actions.

"Edward," I mouth soundlessly. When I reach out and cup him, he's hard as a rock.

"You see?" he hisses. "I wasn't lying. If anything-"

When I try to slip my hand inside his shorts, he pulls his hips away.

"No, Bella. If you touch me right now," he breathes against my mouth, "I'll fucking explode."

His warning is enough to snap that coil he's had wound around his finger all day - literally as much as metaphorically at the moment; he's had me wound around his finger ever since we met if I must be honest. Either way, the metaphorical coil snaps and releases the most mindblowing synapses of pleasure from my core and into every extremity. All the while, Edward's mouth covers mine and swallows up my silent cries.

"Shh. Shh. God, baby, you're so...you're so fucking perfect."

Edward kisses me softly, adjusting my top and bottom. My body feels wonderfully loose as if I'm one giant slinky that's become unraveled, that's completely lost its elasticity.

"You okay?" he whispers.

"Yeah," I breathe, grinning. "I'm great."

He snorts. "Ready for me to pull up the shade?"

"Yeah." Eyes still closed, I turn on my side and try to make my still heavy breaths less conspicuous as Edward pulls up the shade. In the background, the sound system blasts the last few lines of Bob Marley's neverending question:

_"Say something (could you be, could you be, could you be loved?)"_

"Bella, baby, you okay over there?"

Despite the amusement in Emmett's voice as well as the accompanying chuckles, I could not care less. With helplessly heavy-lidded eyes, I offer him and Garrett a grin and a thumbs up.

"I'm fine, just...wooh..." I fan myself, "just..."

"She was just a bit overcome by the heat," Edward says, laying next to me and kissing my forehead. "She needed to get the sun off of her for a bit." He pushes my hair out of my face and smiles sweetly at me.

"Yeah." I smile in return. "That was it. I was overcome by the heat."

"Overcome by the heat, huh?" Charlotte says from her own two-person daybed, where she lounges with Pete.

"Is that what we're calling them things now," Pete snorts, "being overcome by the heat?"

"Someone overcame, I'll tell you that much," Carmen snickers.

Eli joins in. "Never mind getting the sun off; those two had to get their rocks-"

I sit up quickly. "Shut it, all of you! I'm trying to calm a racing heart here!"

They all howl with laughter. And as Edward chuckles and pulls me back down, my own amusement only falters slightly when I see that not _everyone_ is laughing.

Irina lays on her stomach on her one-person deck chair, dark shades hiding her eyes, but she's looking our way, strangely expressionless as she sips her drink.

OOOOO

"I can't believe you told me your friend had a _boat._" I shoot Edward a mock accusatory glance, while we stroll hand in hand down one of the gorgeous shorelines of Pinel Island. It's a minuscule island on the north shore of St. Marteen. Tyler's boat is moored a few yards from the shoreline, as close as it could get to the calm and shallow aquamarine waters, with white sand beaches and coconut-bearing palm trees swaying in the background.

"_Yes_." Edward says the word slowly, feigning confusion as if he's unsure where I'm going with this, though the grin he's sporting says otherwise.

I jerk my jaw toward the boat that's still visible in the distance. Some of us remained on it when it docked, and some of us got off to explore. I have no idea who did what.

"That's not a _boat_, Edward. That's a damn _yacht_."

Expelling a long sigh, he shuts his eyes and turns up his face to the bright, St. Maarten sun, which shines its rays deep into the crystalline waters surrounding us, making them shimmer and sparkle as if a million diamonds float on its surface. The diamonds bubble at our feet, then pop and fizzle like champagne. All the while, the island's breeze whistles through my hair, and my sarong flutters with the ocean's swell.

"I suppose..." he pauses, swinging our hands back and forth, "under the strictest definition of the word..."

When I shove his arm, he chuckles heartily as he steps back, and the waves lap at his feet and shins.

"Fine, fine. It's not a boat."

"No kidding?"

He chuckles guiltily.

"So Tyler and you guys planned beforehand that he'd meet you all here?"

"Yeah."

An image of Irina's impassive gaze earlier flits through my mind, and I can't help wondering...likely guessing what she'd been thinking: that it was supposed to be her hiding under that retractable shade with Edward, catching her breath after being fingered by him.

"Looks like a lot of things were planned beforehand on this trip."

"What?"

I shake Irina out of my head. "I mean you guys really had this vacay outlined. You work with Tyler?"

Edward nods, shooting me a curious glance.

"Producing beats," I smile.

"Yeah," he grins, facing forward, "producing beats."

"I still haven't heard any of these beats."

He chuckles. "You'll hear them."

We leave the main beach behind and follow a rocky path lined with pelicans hunting for fish. Further down the path, we discover a sandbar so shallow that when we sit, we support ourselves with our palms flattened on the sand, while the tide gently rolls in and out. Schools of tropical fish pass us by back and forth, unfazed by our presence. The small island is surprisingly private, with only a couple of handfuls of others within view. Edward tells me it's usually this way, uncrowded despite its Utopian beauty. I spot Charlotte and Pete kayaking a few feet away, and I have no idea where the rest are. We talk about anything and everything. After a while, however, Edward goes quiet. It's not an uncomfortable nor awkward sort of silence, more like he's...deep in concentration. I don't disturb him. Instead, I watch him, fascinated by the way he stares out at the azure sea, his left-hand fingers dancing in the air before him. His back and shoulders are a bit red, the excess sun outlining the black ink of his tattoo. When he finally sets his fingers down, I draw in a breath and speak.

"Is that what you were doing before, back on the yacht, producing with Tyler?"

Edward chuckles, his sea-green eyes on the sea. "Yeah, Bella. Actually, it is what I was doing. I've had one in my head..." Shutting his eyes, he sighs before reopening them and meeting my gaze, shoulders that were relaxed before now suddenly rigid.

"I want to apologize, Bella, for what happened on the boat before."

I offer him a confused frown.

"The way I touched you and made you...in front of everyone." His throat bobs with his hard swallows. "I'd been thinking about you and...and making something, and when I came out, it was all still jumbled in my head, and I wasn't thinking clearly, but that's no excuse." He hangs his head.

"You looked really into it while you were in there with Tyler. The intensity in your eyes and the furrow of your brow...it was something to watch."

He looks up and offers me a frown. "Something to watch? I've never heard it described that way before. Usually, it's Emmett or one of my friends or even my mom complaining that I'm lost in my head and to please pay fucking attention to what's going on around me."

I chuckle as I watch him. "Edward, tell me how you come up with these beats."

"Bella-"

"Don't apologize to me for what happened on that boat...or on that _yacht_, I should say," I smile. "I was much more than fine with it. You of all people know how much more than just fine I was with it."

His nostrils flare, and he returns his eyes to the sea, glaring at it now. "Yeah, me of all people. And to think I had the gall...the fucking hypocrisy to get all infuriated when Quil," he spits the name, "rubbed himself against you and pawed at you in front of everyone the first day of the cruise."

"Exactly, Edward," I point out. "He rubbed himself against me and pawed at me in front of _everyone_. No one saw _us_, Edward. Yeah, they can imagine, but no one saw us. Trust me, had I minded, I would've pushed you away and cursed you out, same as I did with Quil."

His sea-green eyes remain on the sea.

"Hey, tell me how you come up with these beats."

He's quiet for a few moments, while the seagulls soar and dive, catching their afternoon meal right in front of us.

"It's...do you want to hear the basic answer: that I hear them in my head and then just set them to music?"

"No." I shake my head. "If that's the basic answer, then I want the complicated one, the _elaborate_ one," I smile.

He gives me a side-long glance and grins somewhat hesitantly. "All right. Well," he swallows, "they start out..." when he tilts his head and closes his eyes, both the ocean breeze and the sun's rays play with his hair as if they just can't help themselves, "they start out as images in my head...let's say of beautiful, expressive eyes...and those eyes create a certain sound in my head. Then, that sound takes on a color...let's say a rich, chocolate brown, and that color creates another sound. And that sound creates a taste...caramel; and a scent...honey; and then...if I could reach out and touch it...it would feel like...like the smoothest silk...like...like sand on a beach...and then all those sensations create their own, unique sounds that mix and blend together in ways..."

All the while Edward speaks, I'm mesmerized by not only his descriptions but by the way his fingers move in mid-air as if he's playing instruments only he knows, only he can hear. It's hypnotic, alluring, and completely awe-inspiring. I'm awed by this man in so many ways that it's becoming harder and harder to remain grounded.

"In ways you set to music," I finish for him quietly.

He opens his eyes abruptly and shoots me a sheepish smile. "Sorry if I weirded you out. I don't think I've ever tried to explain it that thoroughly. It probably didn't even make sense, huh?" He shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair, appearing somewhat embarrassed.

"No," I shake my head, vehemently negating his need to feel abashed. Then I wrap my sandy, wet hand over his. "You didn't weird me out at all. I mean, I can't honestly say I understood it all, but that's the beauty of creativity, isn't it?" I hedge with a smile. "As long as it makes sense to you, that's what matters; but that doesn't mean I didn't thoroughly enjoy hearing you describe it."

Edward chuckles, and I squeeze his hand.

"Thank you, for sharing that with me."

"Thank _you_ for listening."

"My pleasure. And I still want to actually hear one of these beats."

"You will."

OOOOO

We hike through the scarcely uneven terrain of the island, following bright green iguanas that stand out against the golden meadows and rocks. We take dozens of pictures of the island and its beaches, birds, plants. We snap selfies together with the island background. As I stand on one of the higher points of the island, which isn't really very high at all, and take in the incomparable view of the bay and St. Maarten, I think of my mom and smile.

When I sigh and look away, I catch Edward taking a candid picture of me. He grins ruefully when I purse my lips at him.

"Sorry, couldn't resist. You looked so...wistful. What were you thinking of, Bella?"

He asks so gently I get the feeling he already knows. For a moment, I consider replying with a basic 'my mom,' or even just a shrug. But...I asked Edward for the complicated answer before, for the elaborate one, and he didn't shy away.

"I was thinking of my mom," I smile, "and of how much I know she'd love this place, and of how I...I hope to bring her back to see it someday. And it scares the hell out of me to think that that may never happen."

He nods, and once again I'm so grateful he's not the type to give me the dismissive, _'Sure it will. You just have to remain positive.'_

"If she's anything like you, and from everything you've told me, you and she are very similar, she'd love it. Bella, I've been on this island a handful of times, and I've never explored it as thoroughly as I have today with you. You and your mom are adventurers, huh?"

For some reason, I love how he says this, again as if he _knows_.

"I don't know that I'd call us adventurers," I say, rolling my eyes. "We've never gone raiding lost arks or tombs, but...we do enjoy exploring. She and my dad were taking me on mountain hikes since I took my first steps, and my mom would point out all different sights to me - a colorful field here, a sparkling lake there. I'd completely forgotten about that. I went away to college and completely forgot about that."

We're both quiet for a while.

"Bella, you've noticed the fish and the pelicans and the iguanas and the reefs and the hills and...I mean, I've noticed the beauty of the island, yeah," he says, raking a hand through his hair, "but never these finer details, not the way you do, not until today. I don't think you _completely_ forgot, Bella; I think, subconsciously, all those things your mom pointed out to you were still there."

I smile up at him, but then the smile fades. "I told you they were making plans for the business before Mom got sick, right?"

He nods.

"They wanted to expand, but they wanted to keep it simple, while I've been telling them they should branch out, move out of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first century and offer in-destination experiences like zip-lines, rope courses, bungee-jumping; you know, all that kind of stuff people nowadays want. I told them if they offered those kinds of experiences, maybe they'd get more business." I bit my lip. "But look at this place. Maybe keeping things real is better sometimes."

When the breeze up here whips up my hair, Edward gently rakes his fingers through the long strands and pushes them behind my ear. His hand skims down to my chin, and he lifts my eyes up to his.

"Bella, I think, maybe, sometimes...yeah, sometimes keeping it real is better."

OOOOO

At one point, I bend down to pick up some shiny rocks by the shoreline that have caught my eye. When I take a closer look at them, I'm amazed by their striking color and their frosted, smooth surface.

"Look at these rocks, Edward. They look like glass."

He peers closely at the rocks in my hand. "That's because they _are_ glass. They're sea glass, pieces of glass from broken bottles or even from shipwrecks, which have rolled and tumbled in the ocean for years until they're worn and frosted, and all of their edges are rounded off."

"Wow. You mean I might actually be holding a piece of glass from a shipwreck?"

When I look up at him, he's watching me with an expression I can't quite read; it's almost as if he's as amazed as I am, but not by the glass; rather, he's amazed by my amazement.

I smirk at him. "I realize that all of this is probably just another day in the sun for you, Mr. Masen, but while where I'm from might be beautiful too, we don't get this much sun or treasures in the form of sea glass."

He grins, cupping my face in one large hand. "Miss Swan, trust me, this is _not_ just another day in the sun for me. Yeah, we get a lot of sun where I'm from, but I can appreciate the difference between your everyday beauty and your exceptional treasures."

I feel something slip into my still outstretched hand, and when I look down, Edward has placed a couple of more pieces of sea glass into my palm. They're even smoother and clearer than the rest, one a coffee color and the other a sea-green color, and both mesmerizing.

"This one's almost the color of your eyes," I say, stroking the green one.

"And this one," he strokes the brown piece of sea glass in my hand, "is the exact shade of yours."

"I've got your shades on," I tease. "How can you tell?"

When I look up again, he pulls off my- his shades and captures my mouth in a supple and long kiss.

"Bella, those baby browns are imprinted in my brain by now."

OOOOO

As the sun dips in the sky, we head back to the front of the island hand in hand, following the shoreline and prepping to make our way back onto the cruise ship. I'm feeling pretty...glorious. The afternoon rays have weakened in their intensity, and they rest pleasantly on my shoulders and reflect beautifully off of the water. The ocean breeze wafts through my hair and plays with my sarong in a way that makes me feel both seduced and seductive. And Edward...Edward by my side just completes the feeling of perfection.

As has been the case come afternoons so far on this cruise vacation, most everyone's just a little bit drunk by late afternoon. Though there still aren't many people on the island, those that are here are having _fun_. The two restaurants by the dock are playing competing, loud music, and I smile when I spot Charlotte and Pete dancing on the sand to two different songs. Further down, I think I see Carmen and Eli, though they've both got their backs to us, and they're not dancing. Instead, they seem to be talking animatedly with someone who's blocked by them. As Edward and I stroll a few more steps, lost in conversation, Carmen shifts enough so that she's no longer blocking our vision of the person in front of her...who happens to be a dancing, smiling, cocktail-toting, and topless Irina.

My bare feet come to such a sudden halt that I almost trip on the wet sand.

"Holy..." I breathe.

"What the _fuck_?" Edward spits, glaring for a second before he quickly diverts his gaze and exhales heavily.

Here's the thing: Before we docked, Edward warned me that this was a clothing-optional beach, in case I would've preferred for him and me to remain on the yacht. He also quietly assured me that no one in the group tended to go nude. So, I was fine with it. We've seen more than a handful of nude people throughout the island today, and I've respectfully kept my gaze diverted. To each their own. So, it's not that we haven't seen nude people today or that I'm uncomfortable seeing nude people.

It's a fucking topless Irina I'm uncomfortable seeing, especially when she's obviously drunk, dancing and gyrating while her fucking perfect breasts bounce all over the place. She's got one of her typical, tiny thongs on, a flesh-toned one. So, as she turns around and lifts her hands over her head and drops low, shaking dat ass as the song commands her to do, her fat ass cheeks are bare as well. For all intents and purposes, she pretty much looks completely naked. Which again, is fine by island rules.

"She's so fucking..." When I look over at Edward, his nostrils are flaring, gaze still diverted, "ridiculous sometimes."

After a few deep breaths, I tug on his hand and wait for him to meet my gaze. When he does, I offer him a smile.

"Come on. It's getting late."

His feet don't move.

"What, Edward?" I snort. "It's not like you haven't seen it all before, is it?"

His head jerks back, and for a moment, he looks at me as if he's unsure if I'm just stating something we both know because he was honest with me and told me, or if I'm being petty with information he fully disclosed in all honesty. And for that same moment, I'm unsure as to how I meant it. But the fact is, he _has_ seen it, and had I not been on this cruise...

"Come on," I repeat. "It's rude to stare anyway, right?"

He watches me for a handful of seconds. Then, he snorts. "Yeah. Yeah, it is rude."

We walk stiffly toward the dock, and when we're close enough, and Charlotte and Pete spot us, they look at us and shake their heads.

Meanwhile, Irina's still dancing and smiling. In my periphery, I can feel her eyes on us. Carmen turns away from her and looks at Edward.

"We told her not to," she shrugs.

"We sure did," Eli agrees.

"Didn't listen to us."

"When in Rome, babies!" Irina shouts out.

She dances and sips her drink, tits shiny and bouncing in my periphery.

Edward ignores her, his features hard as concrete. "You guys ready to go?" he asks, addressing the rest of the group.

"Yeah," Charlotte says. "Em, Garrett, and Tyler remained on board the yacht. We were just waiting for you and Bella."

Edward replies with a sharp nod, his hand tightly around mine as we make our way to the end of the dock, where we'll kayak to where the yacht is moored. The rest of the group trails behind. I hear Irina laughing and singing from somewhere in the back. Edward helps me into the two-seater kayak he'll row to the yacht, then I watch him turn sharply toward Irina.

"You either put your goddamn top back on before you get on the boat or you're not getting on. And stop making a goddamn spectacle of yourself."

"I warned her, Edward," Carmen says.

Irina's singing and dancing immediately stop, and as Edward rows us the short distance to the yacht, her eyes meet mine. Her features are no longer expressionless.

She smiles smugly...and I smile in return.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**"See" you all soon.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.**

**Seven Nights – Chapter 10**

* * *

**Day Four: Evening, Back on Board.**

As we leave St. Maarten's utopian Pinel Island behind, I stand at the stern of the boat – excuse me, yacht – and I gaze at the disappearing island, its palm trees waving in farewell. The further we pull away, the more unreal it all feels; even the palm trees shrink to a size so minute that for a moment, I begin to doubt we even set our large feet there. It was an _almost_ fairy-tale-like day.

With a sigh, I check my phone to make sure that in my distraction of the day, I haven't missed any messages – the action in and of itself serving as a reminder that I'm _not_ living a fairy-tale. Thankfully, there are no messages.

The yacht cuts the aquamarine waters like Moses parting the Red Sea, except instead of red, it leaves behind an ivory froth that sizzles on the surface then disperses quietly into the dark blue deep. I smile at the colorful school of fish chasing us in a zig-zag pattern, leaping out of the water every few feet then splashing back in and continuing the pursuit as if saying, 'Yes! This _was_ real! We're proof!'

Keeping everything somewhat fantasy-like, the island music that's been playing in the background of the yacht all day still blasts over the loudspeakers. Yet Irina's loud ass gives it a run for its money. Every few seconds, her drunk, indiscernible words and laughter carry in the breeze all the way from the bow of the yacht – the front.

"Bella, what are you doing here all by yourself?"

When I look over my shoulder and catch Emmett approaching, I shoot him a smile before turning back around.

"Just checking my phone and catching a few last glimpses of Pinel Island."

He stands next to me, breathing in deeply, huge shoulders rising and falling in my periphery. He's built differently from his brother. Whereas Emmett is muscle and brawn, Edward's build is more athletic and sinewy. But in the few days I've known them, despite his brawn, Emmett reminds me of a huge teddy bear; someone you can always count on for a good hug – whether literal or metaphorical.

"It _is_ a beautiful view," he agrees after a few moments. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him turn his face to me, and I turn mine toward him. When he offers me a smile, his eyes – a lot like Edward's but not exactly – crinkle softly. "But what I mean is, why aren't you with my brother? Or why aren't you at the front of the boat with the rest of us for that matter?"

I return my eyes to the water. "Oh, I don't know. I don't want to be in the way of whatever's going on over there." I wave dismissively toward the front of the boat.

He chuckles under his breath. "Bella, the only thing going on over there is a few of us trying to keep a silly little girl from making an even bigger fool of herself than she already has this afternoon, while others of us are simply trying not to choke the ever-living shit out of her."

"Yeah," I snort, "and I don't want to make things even more awkward for her or for any of you…or for Edward, for that matter."

"Well, thank _you_ for being so thoughtfully passive-aggressive."

"I am _not_ being passive-aggressive," I laugh.

"It's _very_ light on the aggressive, I agree," he grins. "Like a sprinkling. A dash, if you will."

I snort. "Emmett, I came on this cruise to escape drama, not to look for it. I've got enough going on in my life. I don't need more."

He offers me a slow nod, scrutinizing me with a soft smile before he leans in and murmurs quietly.

"Sometimes, we find things exactly when we're not looking for them, exactly when we think it's the last thing we need, and sometimes…it turns out, it's the best time to find it."

I raise a brow. "Are we still talking about drama?"

He chuckles and turns his eyes to the sea. "Either way, you weren't the obnoxiously super passive-aggressive one who went out of her way to act a fool in a desperate bid for the type of attention she's never going to get any other way from a certain copper-haired brother of mine."

I look up at him. "She got the attention, though."

"If utter disdain and disgust are the types of attention one goes for," he shrugs, "then yeah; I suppose she got it."

I offer him a wry grin. "To some, that type of attention's a start. He's still there, giving her that disdainful attention, right?"

Emmett's brows pull together, and his eyes narrow as he shakes his head. "Bella, Edward isn't over there. Matter of fact, I haven't seen him since we pulled away from the island. That's why I was surprised to find you by yourself."

"But then…" I frown, "where is he?"

Emmett and I both visually inspect our surroundings. Through the windows, we see that Edward isn't in the yacht's cabin, and Emmett says he just came from below deck, and Edward wasn't there. Apparently, he hasn't been up in the front with the rest either.

Fear begins to close off my throat. Instinctively, I grab on to Emmett's forearm. He covers my hand with his huge one, and both our pairs of eyes simultaneously turn to the water. The yacht is moving fast, the water is deep, and that fucking music's been playing purposely loud to drown out drunk Irina; it could've easily drowned out Edward's desperate pleas for help.

"Oh fuck, Emmett," I expel.

"Relax, Bella. He's a great swimmer," Emmett replies, but his voice shakes.

A throat clears loudly above us, and both Emmett and I look up quickly. Edward stands on the small deck right above us with his forearms resting on the railing, his windblown hair highlighted by the sun, and his eyes steadily on me.

"Asshole!" I shriek. "You scared the hell out of us!"

Emmett roars with laughter. "Bro, you've been up there all this time?"

Edward nods in reply, but his eyes remain on me. He offers me an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry. I swear I wasn't trying to scare anyone."

"Then what the hell were you trying to do?" I shout, adrenaline brought on by the five seconds of fear I felt still coursing through me.

When he doesn't answer right away, Emmett snickers.

"Were you keeping an eye on Bella?"

Edward's eyes remain on me, and he nods.

"Creeper," Emmett says.

"For real," I agree, forcing my eyes away from Edward.

"Well, with this mystery solved, I'll leave you two to it." Emmett offers me a teasing smile. "I think I'll go find my husband and hide below deck with him for a bit to get away from the obnoxious drunk up front. And nope, Bella. Don't try to fight me for below-deck privileges. You should've thought of it first. Thank God I missed the show the first time around, but if that one decides to flash them boobs again…" Emmett shudders, and I can't help chuckling.

"They're actually very nice boobs," I concede with a smirk.

"Not my thing," Emmett says dryly, "and even if they were…" he leans in again so that only I can hear him. "You want to know what I think?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I think the obnoxious drunk wasn't so much aiming for positive attention as much as she was aiming to rattle _you_." He finishes in a whisper and pulls back with a wink, and as Emmett turns to leave, I spot Edward descending the stairs behind him. Emmett claps him on the shoulder as he passes by. They exchange some quiet words, then Edward looks up and at me. Our gazes hold as he approaches.

"You were up there the whole time, watching me?"

He nods.

"Why?"

He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. "You looked…lost in thought, and I wanted to give you space."

I quirk an eyebrow. "You were giving me space by spying on me from the deck above?"

"I wasn't spying on you." He shakes his head vehemently, but then he offers me a rueful smile. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Emmett was right. You _are_ a creeper."

Edward rolls his eyes.

"Anyway, I'm fine," I say.

He scrutinizes me for a moment, then sighs. "You're upset at me."

"I'm not." I shake my head and avert my eyes, looking over his shoulder past him.

"You are."

"No, I'm not. I have no reason to be upset. This is a fun cruise," I grin.

He moves in closer and leans in, dropping his eyes to my level and waiting for me to meet his gaze.

"What?" I say when I can't avoid his demanding gaze any longer.

"How long are we going to do this, Bella?" he asks softly. "How long are we going to pretend that you and I-"

"How long has she been in love with you, Edward?"

He straightens. In the ensuing silence, Irina's laughter rings out from the other end of the boat. When Edward draws in a deep breath, he releases it in a long gust between us, and now it's his eyes that pan away.

"I had no idea she felt that way, and that's the honest truth, as stupid as it makes me sound. Had I known it was that to her, I would've never agreed to be the only other single party on a group cruise full of couples. I thought…I thought…"

"You thought she was okay with just hooking up." _The way I apparently seem to be._

The errant thought knocks the air out of me and makes me grimace. And I'm so grateful Edward isn't watching me right now.

"Yeah," he says after a handful of seconds, returning his eyes to me, Adam's apple bobbing. "And I know that makes me sound like an asshole. It probably makes me an asshole."

"No more an asshole than I am for breaking up with my boyfriend on the second day of this cruise so I could sleep with you."

All golden sunshine leaches from Edward's face. His jaw goes rigid, eyes darkening.

"Is that the only reason you broke up with Quil?" he asks coolly.

"No." I shake my head. "No, it's not."

"Do you plan to get back together with him when this cruise is over?" He swallows hard, nostrils flaring.

"No."

I leave it there and pray he doesn't ask me to elaborate because the answer, which was once so simple – Quil was a thoughtless bastard I outgrew – grows more difficult and layered with each passing hour.

He exhales long and hard. "Bella, I'm not trying to backtrack or deny anything now, but any plan to hook up with Irina was an unspoken plan. As I said, we were the two single people on a group cruise with a few other couples, and yeah, we'd hooked up before, and God," he scrubs a hand down his face, "I regret it, and it feels even more awkward talking about Quil and Irina with you now than it did a couple of days ago. I hate that you came on this cruise with him," he hisses. "At this point, I don't even want to lay eyes on him, and I know how hypocritical that sounds when I came on this cruise with plans to hook up with Irina, and we're all still hanging around."

For a moment, I wonder why that is; why it should be more difficult to speak about others between us now. But…I get the feeling asking will complicate this conversation even more.

"Edward, it's different. I realize it's different. It was easy for me to break up with Quil and leave the others behind as well because I don't really share any interests or life-long friendships with any of them. And apparently, it was just as easy for Quil and the rest to let me go. Which is fine. We were all going through the motions. But this group is made up of your family and friends, and now that you realize how Irina truly feels…if you have feelings for her, I have no intention of coming between-"

His eyes shoot back to mine. "Bella, haven't you heard a word I've said?" he asks slowly and clearly.

My heart drums in my chest. Edward takes a step forward again.

"There are no feelings, not of those type, on my end. Yes, she was my friend, and yes, I feel shitty that apparently, she had more expectations than I ever realized. I mean, when I think about it, she's always been somewhat aloof with the girls I've dated, but…" He shakes his head. "Either way, my only concern back on that island," he takes another step and picks up my hand, weaving our fingers together, "my only concern right now…is _you_."

My heart jumps at the intensity in his gaze, in his words, but I _have_ to remain grounded. I force myself to focus on the _'Right now.'_ After all, we're on Day Four of seven days and nights, and we both _know_ it. And no matter what, as Irina herself said a couple of days ago, no matter what, once this cruise is over, Edward will go his way, and I'll go mine.

"I'm sorry I overheard your conversation with Emmett," he continues. "I honestly didn't mean to eavesdrop, but Bella, if you thought my reaction on that island was about her…" he takes another step and closes the distance between us so that I have to angle my head upward to hold his gaze, "it wasn't. It was about you."

When Edward brushes his lips to mine, I allow myself to respond as easily as I have from Day One. He exhales heavily, pulls me against his chest and cradles my face, stroking my head with the pads of his fingers while our mouths move together hungrily, deliciously, in perfect, fantastical sync, as if they were made for one another.

Because that's what fantasies are about, aren't they?

Perfection.

OOOOO

Edward and I remain together at the back of the ship, kissing and eventually returning to the comfortable place in our short-term relationship where we were before Irina's antics. When we arrive at the port where we'll de-board the yacht and board the cruise ship, we walk hand in hand to the front. While Edward leaves my side for a bit to help Tyler secure the yacht to the port, I'm ready to deal with any more bullshit Irina tries to throw my way.

But, when I catch sight of her, she's splayed out on one of the loungers, hair wild and tangled over her face, apparently fast asleep with her mouth hanging open. And she's the least threatening sight I could've imagined. Someone has thrown a beach blanket over her, and she pulls it over her face in her sleep, making an extremely unattractive sound through her nose.

Carmen sits next to her, and when she looks up and sees me, she shakes her head, her sardonic words echoing my thoughts.

"Boy, she looks super tempting now, doesn't she? Dumb wench. Now, I gotta practically carry her drunk ass back on board, and she's going to be so fucking sick tonight."

Despite my initial, petty thoughts, a probably stupid, smaller part of me can't help feeling sympathy and not just for Carmen – who's a lot cooler than I initially gave her credit for being. It must suck to be in love with someone who likely isn't in love with you, with someone who gave you a mere taste of his beauty once…I can almost feel an inkling of the heartache that must cause.

"Do you need help?" I offer.

Carmen smiles gratefully. "Thanks, Bella, but between Eli and I, we've got her."

I nod in reply. Once Edward and Tyler secure the yacht, we all line up to climb off and say our goodbyes to Tyler. As Eli and Carmen heft Irina off the lounger and between them, she begins moaning.

"I feel sick."

"I don't want to hear it," Carmen mutters. "I warned you this wouldn't end well. And you better not fucking throw up on me or I'll chuck you overboard myself."

"Do you need help?" Edward asks, making the same offer I just made, though I can hear the hesitation in his voice.

"Nah, Ed," Eli replies. "We'll get this one back to her room in one piece."

When I look at Edward and offer him a smile, he tugs my hand and kisses my temple.

The three of them walk off first, Emmett and Garrett following, with Charlotte and Pete behind. Edward and me are the last to climb off. Edward helps me off, then turns to shake Tyler's hand and clap one another's shoulders.

"Thanks, man," Edward says, "for doing this."

"No problem, Ed," Tyler grins. "Thank _you_ for-" He cuts himself off. When my eyes shoot to Edward curiously, he's giving Tyler a strange look.

Tyler clears his throat. "Er, I'll uh…I'll text you when that other thing is ready to go."

"All right, Ty. Thanks again."

Tyler chuckles and offers Edward a mock salute. "Anytime, Ed. Anytime."

OOOOO

Once we're back on board, everyone disperses onto separate, crowded elevators while loudly promising to call one another to determine the evening plans. And feeling somewhat unsure of where to go from here, not so much ship-wise, I draw in a furtive breath and turn to Edward.

"I'm just going to take the stairs." I jerk a thumb toward the staircase behind us. "My room's only a few floors up."

Edward's jaw locks tight, his brow knitting together as he nods. "All right, Bella. If that's what you want."

I pull away, walking backward toward the staircase. "Come meet me in a bit?"

A wide grin spreads across his face. "Okay."

OOOOO

In my cabin, I take a bath in the minuscule shower and rinse the sun, sand, and surf off of my swimsuit and sarong, hanging them on the clothesline provided in the shower. Once I'm done, I turn on the TV while I dress. There's a channel with a videocam situated at the stern of the ship, so we can see what we're leaving behind, and I leave it on as I throw on a blue sundress and tie my damp hair up in a ponytail. I have no idea what the plans are for the night, if any. Either way, days of sun have given my skin a golden glow, so after moisturizer, I forego makeup. When I'm ready, I inspect and approve of my image in the mirror, then throw myself over the small, twin-sized bed in the room and reach for my cellphone on the nightstand.

The sea-glass Edward and I picked catch my eye. I pick them up and turn them over and over. Green and brown. With a sigh, I set them down and return to my cell phone, making sure I didn't miss any calls in my distraction of the day…of the week. All the while, Edward's bewildering words circle my mind.

'_Those baby browns are imprinted in my mind…'_

'_My only concern…__**right now**__…is you.'_

With a sigh, I set the phone down and stare up at the ceiling in the small, dark room. I think of my mom, wishing I could talk with her right now, tell her about Edward, explain the strange situation and get her thoughts and views. I wouldn't even have to censor the events with her, wouldn't have to deny it started as pure lust or pretend the sex with Edward wasn't amazing. Then, maybe, _she_ could tell me what was going on here. She could tell me if this was just a week-long hook-up.

I sigh again.

But, if I called them or if they called me, invariably, our conversation would turn to Mom's health, and they knew it. That's why they made me promise not to call and why they refused to call me unless something serious came up.

Outside the cabin, I hear other passengers arriving at their rooms, opening and closing doors, children running and yelling down the narrow passageway. I wonder if Irina is vomiting at this very moment. The captain comes on the loudspeaker, and I hear his muffled voice through the door announcing that we'll be setting sail in about a half-hour. Jessica, the bubbly Brit Entertainment Director comes on the speaker next and announces the entertainment for the evening – dinner and trivia and parties. She reminds everyone that the next day, Day Five of the Cruise, is a day at sea. I rake my fingers through my long ponytail. Physically and mentally exhausted, my eyes begin to close.

When three clear, sharp raps come on the door, my breath quietly hitches.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Bella."

Heart racing, I sit up and take the few, short steps to the door, opening it slowly.

Edward stands there, freshly bathed, in blue Bermuda shorts and white polo and damp hair pushed back. He offers me a crooked grin that makes my heart jump.

"Did enough time transpire to qualify as _a bit_?"

Chuckling, I fist his shirt and pull him in, allowing the door behind him to slam closed before I push him against it.

"I think so."

"Good. Because I didn't want to-"

I have no idea what he didn't want to do because I push myself up on my toes and cage his face between my hands, crushing my mouth to his. He groans against my lips, wrapping his hands around my hips. When he picks me up, I wrap my legs around him, and he carries me to the small bed, sitting at the edge. For a while, we just kiss, tongues dancing slowly with one another, nipping, sucking, coming up for air then returning. After a wonderfully long moment, his lips skim to my cheeks, to my eyes, and then he kisses my forehead. When his eyes meet mine, the meager light in the room illuminates an expression so tender my heart contracts almost painfully. His gaze flashes to the cell phone on my nightstand.

"No calls?"

"No calls," I smile.

"Good," he says quietly. "You look beautifully sleepy. Want to take a nap?"

"Actually, yeah; I would."

He lays back, hitching upward on the mattress and bringing me with him. I sidle against him, keeping my head on his chest and listening to his quickly beating heart. He smells of soap and sun and surf and cologne all mixed together, and I know, that no matter what, I'll never be able to visit the Caribbean again and not think of Edward.

"This bed is…small." He turns me over and spoons me, my back against his chest, his hands secure around my waist, pulling me in closer.

"Well, we can't _all_ have California Kings."

"It's not a complaint. Gives me an excuse to hold you close. Wouldn't want you to fall." He pushes his groin against my bottom.

"Such a gentleman," I say, purposely arching into him. He grunts, and he's hard, but…he makes no attempt to take it further.

"Hey, without any windows, how can you tell if it's day or night in this room?"

I'm a bit thrown. "Well…" I angle my head sideways and meet his teasing gaze, "being I've hardly been allowed to spend any time at all in this room, I have no idea."

He smiles, but then the smile falters as he swallows.

"For a second there, I was worried you were trying to get rid of me."

Laughing, I turn and face forward again. "What would you have done if I was trying to get rid of you?"

"I would've chased you down all over the cruise ship. You can't get away from me here." I hear the humor in his voice.

"Damn. Emmett was right; you are a creeper."

He bites my neck, and I yelp, giggling.

"So…tonight…should we spend the night in this room or in mine?"

His chest rises and falls against my spine as he waits for my reply.

"I don't mind cuddling here," I smile, "but yeah, let's sleep in yours."

And as my eyes close, I see the sea-glass on my nightstand. Green and brown.

OOOOO

We must've dozed and shifted in our sleep because when I open my eyes, I've got my arms wound around Edward's waist, and he's spooned into me, our hands weaved together and resting over his flat abs. I chuckle quietly to myself, then for a few moments, I simply lay there and watch him. He's still asleep, his back rising and falling slowly against my chest. He's snoring, but they're quiet snores, almost rhythmic, and as I close my eyes and listen, I could picture myself easily sleeping through those snores for…for a long while.

Carefully pulling my arms and hands out, I sit up in bed. He's as mesmerizing in his sleep as he is awake because he looks so young and…vulnerable. A few strands of hair have fallen over his forehead, and his mouth is slightly agape. So sweet. So…innocent.

I lie back down behind him, and without any conscious thought, my mouth brushes his nape.

Edward moans softly. "Bella…"

Hearing him say my name in his sleep simultaneously makes my heart clench and emboldens me. I wrap my arms around his broad back, kissing his nape, and when he turns on his stomach, I straddle his back and dip my mouth to his nape…to his neck.

"Bella…"

With my legs on either side of his back, I kiss him and kiss him…

Abruptly, Edward lifts his upper frame with me on it off the mattress just enough to reach behind his neck. He pulls off his polo shirt, and now, I'm straddling his bare back. I trail open-mouthed kisses all over it, tracing his tattoo with my wet lips, listening to his groans and enjoying the way his body undulates against the mattress, moving me along with it.

"Oh, Bella…" he breathes. "Oh, baby…"

I kiss him from shoulder to shoulder, following the smattering of freckles I'm beginning to adore. My tongue dances against his nape, while my hands fist his hair, and he thrusts against the mattress.

"Hold on," he says hoarsely. "Be careful."

He flips over slowly, while I lift my hips to give him room. Lying on his back now, I straddle his chest. And when Edward meets my eyes, his are dark and full of a lust that completely annihilates anything vulnerable there may have been in him in his sleep.

He grins wickedly as he takes my hands and helps me balance myself.

"Come here."

"Where?" I whisper, my heart racing.

"Higher."

My mouth falls open, and I release a series of successive sighs as ever so slowly, I make my way higher and higher, Edward's hands carefully pulling me. My dress rides past my thighs, and as I reach his neck, Edward's hands move to my backside.

"Edward…" I breathe.

He grins as I pass his neck and stop. His beautiful face is right there, and he holds my gaze for a moment before his eyes trail between my legs. For a while, he just…looks and breathes warms breaths against me, while my chest heaves. When one of his hands releases my bottom, it comes up to where his face is, and a finger languidly pushes aside my panty. With the first lick to just the right spot, the world disappears. And when he buries his face between my legs, my head falls back, and I cry out.

The rest is pure instinct and sensation.

OOOOO

"Edward, Trivia is in ten minutes!" I call out while Edward washes up quickly in the bathroom. "Do you think we'll make it?"

He peeks out from the bathroom and shoots me a grin in between drying off his face.

"Only one way to find out!"

We take more of Edward's shortcuts to the piano bar on the fifth floor, where the evening Trivia is being held. When we arrive, Jessica, the Cruise Director stands at the front by the piano, handing out answer sheets and pencils.

Her eyes grow wide when she spots Edward. "Edward! Cheers, love! You made it! Lovely to have you here!"

When she sees he's holding my hand, her wide grin only falters a bit. "And you too…love!"

I merely chuckle.

"Why don't you two lovely people go see if you can find yourselves a pair of seats and some partners, yeah? We've got a full house tonight!"

She's right. As Edward and I look around, the bar is packed with young and old passengers anxious for a game of trivia. There are absolutely no empty tables, and as Edward and I look at one another and try to figure out a game plan, a familiar voice rings out.

"Jasper, look! It's Bella _and_ Edward!"

At the sound of that voice, I look around and spot a wrinkled and liver-spotted arm waving about wildly. When I wave back, Alice gestures us over.

"Bella! Edward! Over here! Come here and sit with us!"

I look at Edward.

"After you," he smiles. Leaving me to lead the way, he follows close behind with my hand still in his, and his free hand on my hip. He calls out "excuse me's" for both of us while we zig-zag through the packed tables.

"Bella!" Alice exclaims when we reach her. She's at a small, glass table surrounded by four chairs, one occupied by her, another by Jasper, and two empty. I lean in to greet her with a kiss, and Alice wraps her warm, soft arms around me. She smells wonderful, as she usually does, but it's a scent different from the one I've become accustomed to smelling on her. When I pull back, I spy Edward shaking Jasper's hand.

"How are you, sir?"

"My arthritis is acting up, thanks to all the walking my wife made me do today," Jasper grumbles in that amusing way of his I've come to find endearing. He raises a bushy, gray brow. "Now, I'm getting ready to play trivia, and I don't want no interruptions. So if you're both aiming on playing, you better sit down quick."

"Yes, sir. We'll sit down right away." I hear the laughter bubbling in Edward's reply. "Oh, and don't worry, sir. Bella and I take Trivia seriously."

"Good," Jasper snaps as we take our seats. "Hmph."

"So, how are you, guys?" I ask. "Did you have a nice day on the island?"

"Oh, we had a great day on the island," Alice says.

"I wanted to stay on the ship," Jasper mutters. "Missed early afternoon Trivia _and_ Bingo. Now, shush, and pay attention. They'll be reading the first clue soon!"

"Oh, Jasper." Alice giggles and slaps his saggy arm, ignoring his request. "I made perfume at the _perfumerie _on the French side of the island."

"I smelled it on you, Alice," I say. "You smell amazing."

"Why thank you, sweetheart!" she exclaims. Then, she turns to Edward with a coquettish smile. "Edward, would _you_ like to smell me? If you like my perfume, I'll let Bella borrow it sometime."

I press my lips together to conceal my amusement, both at the offer and at the sultry, enticing yet raspy voice Alice uses to try to tempt Edward. When I look at him, he's obviously startled, but he offers Alice a soft smile.

"Sure, Alice. I'd love to."

Alice slowly leans across the small table, fluttering her eyelashes and jutting her shoulder in a manner obviously meant to be flirtatious. When Edward squeezes my hand in a subtle cry for help, all I can do is squeeze it in return and try not to burst out laughing. He meets her halfway, and she turns her neck up to him as he gives her one quick sniff.

Alice jumps in her seat. "Ooh! My! That right there was the most excitement...oof!" She fans herself. "I haven't had a handsome young man come sniffing my way like that in about four decades!"

Here, neither Edward nor I can contain our chuckles. The truth is, if Alice were four decades younger, I'd probably girl-share with her later on and tell her that Edward did some serious sniffing _and_ licking in the best of places just a short while earlier. As it is, that piece of info might give my sweet Alice the vapors.

"I agree with Bella; you smell very nice, Alice."

Edward gives her one of his charming smiles, half of his mouth pulling up crookedly as he pulls away.

"There, Alice," Jasper snaps. "Happy? You got the poor, young man to sniff your neck and tell you that you smell good. That right there should give you enough dream fodder for the rest of your days. Now, can we please focus? Here comes the first trivia clue!"

When Alice keeps right on talking, poor Jasper throws back his head and groans.

"So, how did last evening go for you two? I was thinking about you both all night, just like I said I would be. You in that pretty dress, Bella, and Edward in a nice suit. He did wear a nice suit, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did, Alice. And when he told me he loved my dress, I told him about the sweet couple that gifted it to me."

"Aww, you didn't have to do that." Alice waves away my comment, blushing adorably while hastily diverting the subject away from her generosity. "It was an entirely self-serving gift; believe me. My imagination got some good exercise from that gift, I'll tell you."

Indulgently, I grin at her, while Edward simply offers her a confused smile.

"Damn it, Alice. You missed the first clue!"

"The answer is Rob Roy," Alice deadpans and moves on to scrutinize Edward and me through surprisingly keen eyes for someone her age. Meanwhile, Jasper mumbles to himself and transcribes the answer for our team. "Now, let me see: matching grins, chuckles galore, glowing skin, somewhat bloodshot eyes, and you haven't let go of one another's hands since you both sat down. Goddamn." She smacks her leg so hard for a second I fear she's broken a bone. "From the look of things, I'd say my imagination didn't even do your night justice."

I press my lips together and squeeze my eyes shut before looking over at Edward. When I reopen them, his cheeks are flaming.

"Alice, leave them kids alone!"

"I'm just saying, Jasper."

"Well, stop saying is what I'm saying. You missed the second clue!"

"The answer is the County of Essex, England. Believe it or not, you two remind me of when Jasper and I were young." Abruptly, Alice's gaze sweeps beyond the three of us, eyes glazing over. "Remember, Jasper? Remember what we were like when we first met?"

"We met over sixty years ago, Alice. How am I supposed to remember what happened sixty years ago? What's the answer to the third clue?" he demands.

"Stonehenge. We met in 1955. Now, if I recall correctly," she taps her chin with her forefinger, "that year, the Supreme Court had just ruled that all schools had to be integrated. At the same time, that same government started training troops in South Vietnam. Also that year, Disneyland opened in California for the entertainment of fortunate, vacationing families, while, on the other side of the country, a brave woman finished her workday tired and refused to give up her seat on a public bus. It was a year of many contradictions in our world. But isn't that still the case?"

"It sure is," I nod.

"Alice, you missed the fourth clue!"

"Jasper, I can help with that one," Edward volunteers. "It's Scotland."

"Hmph," Jasper grumbles as he writes.

Again, Alice's eyes pan away. "Anyway, I was a strikingly gorgeous, rich, sheltered, young heiress from New York City, and my Jasper here was what we called a beatnik back in those days. I met him at an underground jazz and poetry club my friends and I snuck into one summer evening, right before we were set to start women's college in the fall. You should've seen him." She shakes her head and smiles. "I mean, I know he's not much to look at now-"

"Hmph. Fifth clue, Alice!"

"I've got that one, Jasper," I say quickly, wanting to hear the rest of this story. "It's Queen Elizabeth."

"-but in his day, he was what you young kids would call a hottie."

I can't help chuckling when Jasper purses his thin lips, and his wrinkled cheeks take on a pinkish hue.

"Aww, Jasper. You're still a hottie."

"Who's got the damn sixth clue?"

"King Henry the Eighth," the rest of us say in unison.

"He was visiting New York from San Francisco, and that night," Alice continues, "he went up on stage, and when all the marijuana smoke cleared, my breath hitched. Here was this young man, who was the complete opposite of everything I'd been raised to appreciate in men. He had the most gorgeous, long flaxen hair, which he wore past his shoulders, and he grew a goatee; both things that in those days were highly frowned upon. He read a poem about racial and sexual inequality, both taboo topics of the day. And he read with such feeling, with a sense of indignant fury, so beautifully angry at the conformity of society. But all the while, his hair contrasted so strikingly with the black turtleneck, black cigarette pants, and black beret he wore that the message he conveyed was almost..._almost_ lost in my distraction."

Halfway through Alice's speech, my eyes sweep to Jasper. With every word Alice speaks, the lens I see him through shifts and clarifies; he's more than an old, grumpy octogenarian. Rather, I see him as the vibrant, young, and yes, good-looking man hell-bent on equality he obviously once was.

"Over the next few weeks, we carried on the most distracting yet enlightening, edifying yet sexually-liberating relationship of my life."

"Oh, wow," I say, unsure as to what else to say.

"I taught this woman a damn lot about the art of sex; yes, I did," Jasper confirms with a sharp nod. "What's the answer to number seven?!"

"He sure did. The Tower of London," Alice replies without missing a beat.

Jasper goes on in his typical belligerent manner, but now, it's in total contrast to his words. "My Alice was gorgeous, yeah, but more than that, she was damn smart and brave. I was the one with the supposed worldly experience, yet she was the one who put me under a spell, the darn woman."

When Alice giggles like a young girl, I clearly see the twenty-year-old imp that must've hypnotized Jasper in their youth.

"Well, when you know, you know," she shrugs.

My eyes grow wide at hearing that oft-repeated favorite phrase of my dad's. For a quick moment, it feels as if Edward's hand stiffens around mine. His fingers open wide and stretch to the point of shaking before they curl carefully and slowly around my fingers again.

"Anyway, over the next few weeks, Jasper and I attended civil liberty meetings, women's rights sit-ins, wrote tons of poetry, and smoked a hell of a lot of marijuana. And in between it all, we had the best sex of our lives. In fact, we had so much sex that now that I think about it" - she taps her chin with her forefinger - "I'm not sure how we found time for the rest. Jasper, how _did_ we find the time?"

"We did everything else in between the sex, Alice; not the other way around!"

"Are you sure?"

"Well, of course, I'm sure!"

"I'm not so sure."

"Well, I am! Eighth clue!"

"The River Thames," Edward says. And while Alice and Jasper argue back and forth about whether they had more sex or attended more marches that summer of 1955, he leans in close to me and whispers.

"Can you believe this, Bella?"

"I know. Aren't they adorable?"

He pulls back and looks at me. "Well, yeah, but what I mean is..."

Edward holds my gaze, and when he doesn't continue, my brow furrows. Instead, he turns back to Alice and Jasper with a knowing grin.

"So, Alice, Jasper, I suppose the way this story ends is that you were inseparable from that summer on, right?"

"No, Edward, honey." Alice shakes her head. "As I said, Jasper was a distraction that summer. I had other things going on in my life, and so did he. When the summer ended, he went his way, and I went mine."

Edward frowns deeply. "But...you're here now, together."

"Yes; however, it took us some time because we- but that's a whole other story." Alice's aging eyes brighten yet again. "Would you like to hear that story as-"

"For the love of God, no more stories and focus, woman! If I don't win that trophy tonight, there's goes my good mood!"

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

"**See" you soon!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.**

**Seven Nights - Chapter 11**

* * *

**Day Five: Morning at Sea**

I wake to whispered voices in the background, something like a cart being rolled, and the clinking of utensils that are being shuffled around as quietly as possible.

"Is there anything else I can get you, sir?"

"That should be it. Wait, are the scrambled eggs in there too? Those have been her favorite for the past couple of mornings."

"Yes, sir. An order of scrambled eggs, an omelet order, a side of french toast, a side of pancakes, sausage, bacon, tropical fruit, pastries, milk, orange juice, and a selection of cereals."

"Perfect." There's a sheepish chuckle. "I'd rather be safe than sorry. Here you go, buddy. Thanks a lot."

A few more murmured words, and then the sound of waves lapping gently against the ship's hull takes over. Motionless, and with my eyelids shuttered, it magnifies the gentle swaying of the ship, like a giant cradle rocking mildly at the hands of nature. There's a soft breeze fanning my bare shoulders and faint bands of light warming my face. Even better, sea droplets seem to leap through the balcony doors we left open last night to bestow wet kisses to my spine. Gauzily tracing my skin, they follow a warm path from my neck downward; head still foggy from sleep, it dawns on me admittedly slowly that the kisses are _not_ sea droplets at all. They're too precise. They pause at each indentation in my spine, at each groove, and they're joined by warm breaths and a darting tongue.

Eyes still closed, I hug the fluffy pillow under me and smile. "Mmm. What a way to be woken."

Edward's chuckles reverberate against my spine, raising further goosebumps throughout my body.

"There's breakfast too."

"So I heard, though the brochure said only cold cereals, pastries, and juice were included in room service."

"You and your brochure," Edward snorts. "Did you sleep well?"

"How could I not sleep well in this room?" I reply in a raspy voice. "Edward, do me a favor please, and peek over at my phone."

"I hope you don't mind that I already did," he admits in a whisper, "and there are no messages."

For a second, I'm torn between indignation that he's peeked at my phone and gratitude that there are no messages...and that he knows me enough to peek at my phone.

"I don't mind. Thank you," I say when I determine that's the prevailing emotion. Then, I open my eyes.

A fiery, golden glow rises from the dark waters beyond the balcony. Various shades of blue and red compete for dominance, melding in the heavens, where one shade will emerge victorious and perhaps share the crown with a couple of others. All the while, the metamorphosis is caught by the breaking dawn, illuminated for the world to see.

"Cerulean," I breathe.

Edward hums a question against my skin.

"It's the shade that's going to win this morning; matter of fact, the shade that's won for the past five days: a perfect, cerulean blue."

"Mm." His lips are mid-spine now.

"Where I come from, the morning usually dawns in various shades of gray. When I was little, my friends and I would play a betting game. 'What shade of gray will the sky be tomorrow morning? Will it be white-gray, gray-gray, black-gray, a combination somewhere in between or will the sun actually peek through the mountains today?'"

"Sounds like a sad sort of betting game," he says, but I hear the amusement in his voice despite the way his mouth is muffled by my spine.

"It would sound that way to you," I smirk playfully, still gazing at the gorgeous view, "whose only guesses in Miami probably consist of 'Will it be a golden sunny day or a peachy sunny day?'"

"We have more variations than that," he counters. "Sometimes, it's a lemony sunny day."

Lifting my chest off the mattress, I pivot my head, but I can't quite swivel enough to meet his gaze. Nonetheless, his laughter confirms he caught my eye roll. When I drop down again, Edward resumes his kisses to my back.

"Tell me more about this betting game of your youth. What were the stakes?"

"It depended on who I was betting against as well as my age. In elementary school, if I bet a girl, the stakes were something like a notebook, or a pen, or who did whose homework. If it was a boy, it was something like a punch in the arm."

"Ouch. My dad would've killed me if he ever heard I'd punched a girl in her arm, even if we were elementary school age, and we'd made a bet."

I chuckle. "Now that I think about it, your dad probably raised you right. Sometimes some of those fuckers were vicious when I lost."

"Little fuckers," Edward agrees. "They're lucky I didn't grow up with you in Knives."

"_Forks_," I correct, knowing he's teasing.

"And how about during your high school years? What were the stakes then?"

"Well, if it was a girl, we'd bet something like a school lunch, a lipstick, or a pair of earrings."

After a few moments of silence, he stretches out over me, and something simultaneously warm and undeniably hard bobs against my spine. "And if you were betting a boy?" he prompts in my ear.

At my sideways look, he expels a chuckle and resumes his attentions to my spine. "So it was _that_ kind of betting game."

"It was a small town, and we'd grow bored."

Again, he chuckles. "We'd play games like that too," he admits after a few moments, "though maybe more Miami-style. I kissed a boy once."

It's my turn to chuckle. "Did you really?"

"Mhm," he hums nonchalantly, his jaw now skimming my back.

"Like a real kiss? Was there tongue involved?"

"Yeah. Does that disgust you?"

"Not at all, but now I want to hear all about this."

Edward snorts. "I was ten and hanging out with Emmett. The kissing games began, and I figured if my big brother liked boys, maybe I did too. So, I kissed one, tongue and all."

"And how did that turn out for you?" I grin.

Again, he stretches out over me, nudging me purposely, even harder now. "What do you think?"

It's my turn to laugh.

"It was a mutual let down. By the way, the guy was Pete, who as you know, is now one of my best friends. Afterward, Emmett patted my shoulder and assured me that he still loved me and that he'd always have my back even if I was predictably and ordinarily straight."

I bury my face into the pillow to stifle my howls. When they die down, Edward returns his mouth to my back.

"It's part of growing up, I guess," he murmurs.

"Kissing various individuals until-"

"Until you find the last one you want to kiss. I'll tell you what, though; if those are the kind of bets you make, you're not stepping foot in the casino onboard this ship without me."

My back arches with the force of my laughter. "Look who's talking! Besides, I'm not much of a betting person anymore, Edward. Life kinda got real."

He's quiet for a moment. "Bella, you see that view outside?"

"Yes," I say slowly, smiling.

"That's real too, and you've got a way of always noticing it."

"Don't you notice it?" I ask.

Again, he doesn't reply right away. When he does, the first part of what he says is inaudibly breathed against my back. "...lately. So, is the view why you enjoy this room, Bella?"

"What else is there?" I tease.

"What else, indeed?"

"Well, there _is_ this huge bed, the huge bathroom, the plush carpet, the balcony-"

"You're mentioning every place I've had you so far," he breathes, making butterflies dance in my stomach.

"Oh! The balcony hot tub-"

"Can't forget the balcony hot tub," he snorts, playing along. All the while, he hovers above me, with his hands splayed on either side of me and against the plush mattress, while his lips ghost lower down my vertebrae. He arrives at the base of my spine, where my body naturally curves upward, and when his mouth continues its exploratory path, I exhale a long, audible breath. His mouth and tongue brush wet kisses from one cheek to the other, back and forth, and the long list of his room's many amenities is forgotten. When the kisses end, and he palms and kneads my cheeks instead, I chuckle lowly.

"Oh, it seems the room comes with a masseuse as well."

"I don't know that I'd want a masseuse giving you this type of massage," he growls, making me laugh.

"So, no casino and no masseuse for me?"

"Only if I'm with you."

"Edward…" I squirm against the mattress, and when he stretches out on top of me once more, he rests the full breadth and weight of himself right against my bottom.

"What do you want, Bella?" he asks.

"You know what I want," I breathe. "Are you going to make me beg?"

"_Never_...but I do want to ask you something: Is it the room," he leans in and whispers in my ear, "or is it _me_ you spend your nights here for?"

"Are we still on that subject?" I grin against the pillow, teasing him.

He chuckles and crouches, positioning himself. My heart races with eager anticipation.

"Answer me."

"Is _that_ supposed to be a threat, Edward? Because as thick and hard as that is, I've been wanting it _ohhh_…"

He pushes in, and the bottom half of my body instinctively arches like a bow, outward and upward. We both cry out at the directness of the angle, and without preamble, he begins a rhythmic grind. My chest rests against the mattress and my bottom is lifted up, and like this, every thrust is magnified a thousandfold. It's a position so different from every other way I've ever done this...and it's magnificent.

Or is it magnified and magnificent because of who-

My train of thought is eradicated when Edward slips an arm under my stomach and lifts my upper frame off the mattress as well, so that I'm on my hands and knees, supporting myself with palms flat on the bed. On his knees behind me, Edward's muscular front thighs press against my back thighs as he grunts in time with his thrusts, hands gripping my hips, guiding me back and forth.

"God, Edward…" I rock and push against him, "Edward…I've never…like this…never…"

"Me neither, baby. Never, _never_ like this." He leans in and hisses in my ear. "You were supposed to answer my question first, Bella. Do you sleep here because of the room or because of me?"

"Wha…?" I'm bewildered for a moment, but then I laugh despite what we're doing. "The room."

"Yeah? The room, you obstinate-" He drives in fast and deep, and my laughter morphs into a high-pitched sound I don't think I've ever made. I can't even feel embarrassed when it echoes through the balcony and drifts out into the sea. For a second, I imagine other ships passing by, picking up the sound on their radars, and wondering who and what made it. But again, all thoughts evaporate when he slips an arm around my waist and lifts me again so that now I'm sitting astride his lap, with my damp back against his sweaty chest and our connection more intense than ever. Anchoring my hands on his sinewy thighs, I cry out as I feel him in ways I've never felt anyone, as sensations so fiercely acute concentrate themselves in places that take away my breath.

Breathless, I throw my head back onto his shoulder. "Edward…Edward…"

"You like it like this, Bella?" he asks, his voice rough in my ear.

"Yesss...I love it like this...Edward...I...I love-"

My eyes round into circles, startling myself with the words that almost popped out, _slipped_ out in what's obviously a haze of lust.

"What, Bella?" Firmly yet carefully fisting the hair at my nape, he guides my head sideways, holding my gaze through dark, lust-filled eyes of his own. "What do you love? Tell me," he almost demands.

"I...I..." I quickly cover up my mistake with a throaty chuckle. "I love this position."

Something flickers in his eyes before his top lip curls. "Yeah?" he grits, "You love this _position_?" Still gripping my hair, he angles my head, licking and sucking on my neck, while he molds his other hand around one breast then the other. My mouth falls open. All the while, Edward's hips rock fluidly, swaying our joined bodies sinuously, almost serpentine while the scent and sound of us become our cocoon.

"Edward, Edward…"

"Is it the room or is it me, Bella?"

For a fraction of a moment, the question feels layered; as if somewhere along the way, it got mixed in with other discussions, with other words and meanings. But I'm so close...too close to think.

"Room."

"Stubborn…" Curving his hands around my hips, Edward lifts then jerks me down hard and fast, lifts and jerks me down. I'm able to withstand this for all of a handful of times before I give in.

"It's you, Edward! Oh God, it's you…it's you…you…you…"

Halfway through my euphoria, Edward's hips buck, and he pitches forward, one arm circling my waist and holding me prone against him while the other arm shoots out, hand flattening against the mattress and fisting the covers as he keeps us from falling on our faces. He expels a long and loud groan before his extended arm gives, and we fall sideways on the bed.

For a long while, he holds me against him, slackened inside me, yet despite all we've done in the past few days, it's feeling him like _this_ that feels the most intimate, the most...tender. As his strong frame quivers with periodic aftershocks behind me, still coming down from its high, he seems so...vulnerable. I find myself wishing we could-

I _catch_ myself wishing, thank goodness.

It's only a seven-day cruise.

I _know_ this, just as I've known from the very beginning that this is just sex. How fucking greedy of me to dare to want more than seven perfect days and nights with a wonderful, intelligent, interesting, and talented man who talks to me about anything and everything, who listens to me raptly when I'm talking about anything and everything, who laughs with me and teases me, and who treats me like a friggin' modern-day princess in a friggin', modern-day fairy tale? _And_ we have the best fucking sex imaginable to boot? Kate and Meghan can't possibly have it this good.

And all of it combined can't possibly be reality off of a cruise ship. It's too perfect, and perfection - whether it be perfect weather, a perfect man, a parent's perfect health - never lasts. So, what's the damn point in wishing for more than the reprieve this vacation is giving me? We have two and a half days left before the ship docks and we return to reality, and there's no point in ruining the rest of the cruise for myself by turning it into more.

Damn.

Fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my body stiffening with dread when it hits me:

In that mental list I've just ticked off, not only was _'the best fucking sex imaginable'_ not the only item on the list...it was the last item.

I've already turned it into more.

All the while, Edward's warm and heavy breaths, interspersed with soft kisses, bathe my damp neck. His hands weave through mine and rest on my stomach, stroking my skin softly.

_No further. Do __**not**__ let yourself get carried away any further,_ I command myself. _He never promised you anything more, you never asked for more, and you don't need or have the time for anything more beyond this cruise._

With my first reminder already a big fail, I set up these secondary reminders just in time, right before Edward pulls out, and carefully flips me over. He cradles my face, and when our gazes meet, his sea-green eyes sparkle, an ebullient smile already lighting up his handsome features. But in the next moment, the smile falters. He appears to search my eyes, something flickering behind his gaze...and two seconds later, the smile completely leaches.

"I thought..."

"What?" I frown. "What happened, Edward?"

He removes his hands from my face, shaking his head and raking a hand through his tousled hair. "No. Nothing." He snorts. "I thought I saw...or heard..."

When my frown deepens, Edward smiles again, but this smile doesn't seem to quite reach his eyes.

"Never mind, Bella," he murmurs, coolly kissing my nose then my forehead. "I guess I went about things..." Drawing in a deep breath, he expels the air heavily into the tight space between us. "Why don't we just take a nap? We're at sea today, and we can sleep in a bit if you'd like. Breakfast should keep warm for a while, and then we can wake up, eat...and do nothing but fuck around for the rest of the day and night."

Though I was famished just a few seconds earlier, my appetite is completely gone now. More than the disconcertingly cold plans, his impassive tone makes my heart drop to my feet. I feel my eyes sting, and using the excuse of a nap, I shut them quickly.

"Okay, yeah. Good idea. Let's take a nap so we can fuck around for the rest of the day and night."

For a long while, I keep my eyes shut, fighting against the instinct to open them and confirm whether it's just my imagination, or if his eyes are still on me. I'm not sure how much time has passed when I finally give in and open my eyes, but now his are shut. I wait, vowing to myself that if he opens his eyes in the next couple of minutes, I'll...I'll...

I'll what?

Either way, the internal debate becomes moot when Edward's lips part and a quiet snore emanates from his nostrils, bare chest rising and falling in long, even breaths.

And for the first time, a disturbing thought hits me, a niggling fear in the pit of my belly that by hooking up so quickly with Edward, something went off track, and not only have I extinguished any chance of this cruise vacation being one of total, uncomplicated relaxation...but that I may actually not escape this ship unscathed.

OOOOO

At nine-ish in the morning, Edward and I step off the elevators on the Lido deck.

A nap and some breakfast seem to have done us both some good. Whatever strange fear gripped me earlier is more or less gone, or at the very least pushed back into the recesses of my mind. The sun is shining, the music on deck is pumping, everyone around us is laughing, and Edward weaves his fingers through mine, smiling at me with his eyes once more, kissing me softly, that disturbing coolness and impassivity that appeared after we had sex apparently pushed away as well.

There are three left; there's no point in dwelling on puzzling or disconcerting moments.

"Edward, Bella! Over here!"

Charlotte waves us down, but when Edward begins moving us toward his group, who are gathered in deck chairs by the jam-packed pool, at the same spot where I met up with them three days ago - God, I can't believe it's only been four days since I met Edward - my feet remain rooted.

Edward turns around. "What's wrong?"

"It's just...I feel bad about yesterday, how drunk and then sick Irina got. I don't want her to think that we're purposely-"

He moves in closer, eyes on me while half-naked men and women bump into us. "Bella, we're not purposely doing anything to her, but neither do I think we should have to pretend on top of everything else."

"What do you mean on top of-"

"What are you two doing just standing here?" Emmett asks, coming up behind Edward and shoving him. Edward pitches forward slightly, raking his hair, his eyes remaining on mine. "We've got chairs for you both! Though I know you guys wouldn't mind sharing one, this deck's way too packed for you two to pull that freaky-freaky you pulled on Ed-" - he coughs - "on the yacht yesterday. Know what I mean?" he snickers.

My eyes remain locked on Edward's as I reply to Emmett. "I just...I don't want to-"

"Irina's not here this morning," Emmett says, "if that's what you're discussing."

Both of us look at him.

"Hey, I ain't stupid," he says. Then, as he leads the way, Edward wraps an arm around my shoulder, kissing my temple.

"Sorry for my attitude," he mouths.

Though he apologizes, I see the frustration clouding his eyes. It's similar to the frustration I'm feeling as I merely nod in reply.

It turns out, Irina did spend time vomiting last night. Then, she woke up with a mean hangover and elected to spend the morning in her room and out on her own balcony. Carmen tells the story while we sip our drinks.

"Serves her right, and I'm her best friend. If a guy doesn't want you when you're sober, he's not gonna want you when you're drunk, no matter how naked you are or how much you throw yourself at him. Unless he's an asshole," she qualifies, pointing her beer bottle at both Charlotte and me. "If he doesn't want you when you're sober but he wants you when you're drunk, then he's an asshole. Now, on the other hand," she says, obviously already a bit drunk herself, "If he wants you when you're sober but won't have you when you're drunk, he's a good guy."

"So, how about if he wants you when you're drunk and when you're sober?" Charlotte wonders, also somewhat drunk.

"Oh, my God, that one's a keeper," Carmen laughs. "Especially if you're a drunk like me. One time, I got so drunk that Eli had to..."

While she continues her story, my eyes stray to Edward. He's sitting a couple of deck chairs away, in some sort of deep discussion with Emmett, it appears. But his eyes are on me. I think back to that night, just a few short nights ago, when I threw myself at him both drunk and willing. He could've easily had me.

Edward made us wait.

When Edward winks at me, I offer him a smile, sipping thoughtfully on my drink.

OOOOO

Pool games ensue.

"All right, Bella, but if I do this, you're going to have to enter the Towel-folding Contest this afternoon."

"Ugh. Deal."

At Brit Cruise Director Jessica's urging, coupled with Charlotte, Carmen, and my relentless insistence, all the guys in our group enter the poolside 'Sexiest Guy Contest.' They compete against a handful of other guys, and all of them are made to strut around the pool, wiggle their hips, flex their muscles, and otherwise embarrass the ever-living hell out of themselves while cheesy music plays in the background, and the rest of us roar with laughter, snapping picture after picture.

At one point, while Jessica gleefully counts the number of packs that appear on Edward's stomach by needlessly stroking every single one, Charlotte turns to me in between her chortles.

"You know, he's only doing this because you're here, Bella, and because you asked him."

"He agreed because I agreed to embarrass myself at the Towel-folding contest later."

"Pfft," she snorts. "The rest of us have always offered to embarrass ourselves along with him, but he's always refused to join the Sexiest Guy Contest."

"But Bella asked _nicely_," Charlotte says.

They both laugh, and yeah, they're mocking us, but not in a mean way.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Jessica announces over the throng of screaming passengers watching the show from lido deck and crowding the railings on the two decks above us, "Edward here has not a six, not a seven, but an eight bloody pack! Bloody brilliant, and you, mate, should feel properly chuffed!"

Meanwhile, Edward's face is scarlet. He offers the crowd a sheepish smile they eat up, roaring so loudly I'm sure they're scaring the fish.

Nonetheless, and to Jessica's startled and none-too-disguised disappointment, Emmett wins the contest.

"Bloody hell, are you all sure you want to pick him over his perfect specimen of a brother?" she asks the crowd, who chooses the winner based on how loudly they clap and shout.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Emmett roars. "The tribe has spoken, and my little brother here's been voted off!"

Everyone howls, and when Garrett approaches his husband and crushes his mouth to Emmett's, calling out, "He's taken, bitches!" the catcalls and whistles are deafening.

And when Edward returns to me, he picks me up off the deck and crushes me to him, and we laugh and laugh.

"I lost."

"Who cares? That was bloody brilliant!" I tease in a British accent.

OOOOO

A bit past noon, Edward and I arrive at the Outdoor Sports Deck on the fourteenth floor.

Jasper is impatiently waiting for us, shuffling from foot to foot and wearing his usual, endearing frown. Meanwhile, Alice happily grins our way.

"Edward, Bella!" She greets us with a kiss and her familiar excitement as if she's known us for decades and hasn't seen us for years.

"Where were you?" Jasper grumbles at Edward. "We agreed on quarter after twelve!"

"It _is_ quarter after twelve, sir," Edward smiles.

"It's twelve-_sixteen_! Damn young kids nowadays can't even tell time!"

"I apologize, sir. You're correct; it's twelve-sixteen," Edward grins. We share a look, pressing our lips together.

"Hmph," Jasper harrumphs.

"Oh, Jasper." With a wave of her hand, Alice dismisses her husband's usual grumpiness. "They're right on time, and you should be grateful that handsome, young, and virile Edward agreed to this. I'm sure he'd much rather be in a quiet corner with beautiful Bella, kissing her passionately." She sighs and offers us one of her impish smiles, and now we do chuckle.

"Oh, sweetheart, I remember what it's like. What is it that they call them nowadays? Nooners, is it?"

"For the love of God, can we cut the babbling and get to it! We'll be late!" He waves a hand rapidly, gesturing us forward.

"Yes, sir," Edward says. For some reason, his patience with Jasper warms me all over.

We walk together in a row, Jasper to Edward's left and Alice to my right.

"Now, when we start, pay attention to me, young man, because I know all of that cheater Ben Cheney's tells."

"Yes, sir."

"When he pulls on his ear, he's planning something dirty, and when he..."

While Jasper continues ticking off muttered instructions, Alice turns to me.

"Your young man is so wonderful to do this for my grumpy Jasper." The way she gazes at Edward makes me chuckle.

"It's no problem, Alice. He's happy to do it, though he's not my young man."

Alice's eyes jerk away from Edward and flash to me. "Oh, he's so obviously yours, honey, it's as plain as the tropical sun in the sky!"

I stare at her.

"Sweetheart, you just have to reach out and-"

"Alice, I need you to save your breath so you can blow on my balls and give 'em good luck!" Jasper demands.

He's standing by the ping-pong table, where he and Edward will be partnered in the afternoon Ping-pong tournament. Somehow, after the four of us won last night's trivia, it came up in conversation that Edward once won a high-school ping-pong tournament. At that point, he became Jasper quasi best friend, and Jasper more or less demanded that Edward partner with him for today's Cruise Ping-Pong Tournament.

Edward agreed with a smile.

Alice shuffles over with a flirtatious smile and blows on her husband's ping-pong balls.

I look up at Edward. "You want me to blow on your balls?"

"Oh yeah," he grins wickedly and winks, throwing a couple of ping-pong balls up in the air and catching them. "But not these balls, so maybe later."

We're still laughing when Jasper calls Edward to attention. "Doggone it! Stop letting that girlie distract you and pay attention, young man! Ben Cheney is partnering with Sam Uley, and while Sam is a scrub, Cheney's gonna be harder to beat, that damn cheater! Now here comes the judge!"

"Edward," Jessica exclaims happily, "you're here now? This is shaping up to be a bloody brilliant sea day! Are you and your partner ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," Edward agrees before turning to Jasper calmly and respectfully. "Uhm, though I do have one condition before we begin."

"Condition!" Jasper echoes, the veins in his forehead popping as he slams a fist against the ping-pong table. "No one said nothing about no condition! What darn condition?"

"Jasper, just listen to his condition. What is it, honey?"

"Edward?"

"Nothing big, sir. Just something very minor." Edward clears his throat. "If we win, sir, I'd like to ask that Alice and you _both_ tell Bella and me the full and complete story of how you ended up together...and how you finally made it work."

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**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**"See" you all soon!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**RL is super crazy right now. I wanted to get further into this chapter, but I figured I'd at least post this for now.**

**Also...I do realize that all of a sudden, a story about a couple on a cruise isn't quite as benign as it was when I first started this story. It's a crazy world out there right now, in many ways. The hubs and I usually take the kids on a cruise every year, but...we might be skipping this year's cruise. Therefore, this might be the only way I get to experience one this year. And since writing ****is an escape for me anyway, just as I know reading is an escape for many of you, I figured, let's just all escape what's going on out there for a bit together, huh? 3**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.**

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**Seven Nights - Chapter 12**

**Day Five: Evening At Sea**

For the past half hour, Jasper has been strolling up and down the upper decks of the cruise ship with the fading sun on his back, a beautiful woman at his side, and more swagger in his step than an octogenarian is usually known to possess. He struts each floor from bow to stern, port to starboard, with a smug smirk on his age-lined face, with his time-worn chin held high amidst the sea air, with his once-sagging shoulders broader and straighter than a man his age can usually hold them, and with a bouncy spring of a man at least twenty years his junior. Hefting the massive trophy - almost half his size - higher in his arms, he locks eyes with anyone and everyone who happens by and provides an abbreviated account of recent events to all who'll stop and listen.

"Just won the Ping-Pong tournament, 'case you're all wonderin' where I got this here trophy. Me. Jasper Whitlock. Remember that name cuz you'll be hearin' a lot more of it throughout the rest of this cruise. My wife Alice here blew on my balls and gave 'em good luck. That darn Ben Cheney thought he was gonna win this here trophy out from under me, but I had myself my lucky balls, and I wiped the ping-pong table with his and his scrub partner's wayward balls. Hah!"

Thankfully, most of our fellow passengers are enjoying their cruise vacations way too much to point out the obvious hilarity in this speech, and they're all at least halfway drunk anyhow. They reply with laughter, with an amused chuckle, with a grin or a smile - yet in a friendly manner and even with a few words of praise. Then again, it could be the warning glare Edward shoots them all before they open their mouths that tempers their replies.

"Oh, really? Wow! Congrats, Jasper Whitlock! Wish we would've seen that! And...uhm, kudos to you, Alice, for blowing on the lucky balls!"

"That's great, Jasper and Alice Whitlock!"

"Uhm...that's some trophy."

Meanwhile, sashaying proudly at her husband's side, Alice bestows on everyone a radiant smile and a languid, revolving-hand, beauty-pageant-style wave.

And hand-in-hand behind them like chaperones, maintaining enough distance to allow them to bask in their limelight, Edward and I share furtive looks and do our best not to burst into our own peals of laughter.

"Thank you, thank you. It was an amazing experience; truly it was." Alice's tone hearkens back to the olden days of Hollywood. She sounds like a glamorous starlet giving an acceptance speech. "But Jasper, we must make sure we thank Edward as well and give him the credit he's due as your tournament partner."

"He was...around to pick up my dropped balls and such," Jasper mumbles. "Not much more."

"Why, Jasper, he did so much more-"

"Less talkin' and more walkin', Alice! Less talkin' and more walkin'!"

"Do you need help carrying that, sir?" Graciously, Edward ignores the fact that his true role in the winning of the tournament has been completely omitted from Jasper's narrative.

"'Course I don't! Why would I need help carryin' my own trophy?" Jasper replies without even turning his head.

"No reason," Edward says, amusement bubbling in his voice. "Forgive me for asking. But you'll let me know if you do, won't you?"

I chuckle under my breath, while Edward and I swing our knit hands back and forth behind them. "They are so damn adorable."

"At least Alice is. Did you hear Jasper more or less relegate me to a ball boy?"

I muffle my snickers against Edward's shoulder. All the while, Alice and Jasper continue accepting accolades and adulation from our fellow passengers.

"Aww." I pretend to soothe his injured feeling by kissing his muscular arm. "You're no ball boy. I'd say you're more of a...a bat man. Yeah, that's what you are. You're a bat man with a long, hard, and massively thick bat."

His lips brush against mine. "Mm. If you behave, I'll let you play with my long, hard, and massively thick bat-" He laughs uproariously when I shove him away. "It's fine. going to be my new best friend come dinnertime anyway."

I quirk a brow. "You seem awfully interested in a six-decade-old love story as told by Jasper Whitlock."

"I am," he nods.

"Well, let's just hope Jasper's a bit less imaginative with the retelling of that tale than he's being with his Ping-Pong Tournament Win Tale. Seriously, Edward," I say as we resume our chaperone duties, "do you have any idea how the hell Jessica the Cruise Director managed such a huge trophy for a ping-pong tournament, meanwhile poor Emmett got a tiny ship-on-a-stick for winning the Sexiest Guy Contest?"

Edward's gaze remains front and center. "No idea."

"I mean, you'd think that would warrant at least a trophy as big as the ping-pong trophy turned out to be, don't you?"

Edward shrugs, smiling as he jerks his jaw in Jasper's direction, whose back is as straight as an arrow despite arthritis and the heavy trophy he carries.

"Just look at the old man. He's sure getting his kicks right now, isn't he?"

He chuckles when I yank his hand and pull him hard toward me, lifting myself on the tips of my flip-flops and leaning close to his ear.

"You're the true winner of that tournament, and don't think I don't strongly suspect that along with that, you also had a hand in the size of that trophy."

When I pull away, he lifts his brows in mock innocence. "I'm shocked by your accusations, Miss Swan."

"Edward Masen: ping-pong master, beats producer, best masseuse in the world...and an all-around wish granter to more than just grumpy, senior citizens. Seriously, what _aren't_ you good at?"

We've reached the elevator bank, and while we wait for Alice and Jasper to pull themselves away from their adoring fans, Edward pulls me into his arms and so close I have to angle my head sharply to hold his suddenly intense sea-green gaze. He swallows hard before he speaks, and when he does, there's no longer any amusement in his voice.

"Bella Swan, hiking queen, nature lover, studier of sunsets...and the best trivia partner I've ever had. You want to know what I'm apparently not good at?"

"What?" I breathe, mesmerized by the focus in his expression.

"Letting you know- oof!"

There's suddenly a huge, golden trophy between Edward and me, which Jasper has shoved into Edward's arms. He and I pull apart, while Jasper scans the surroundings.

"Okay, we're in the clear. Now, remember, sonny," he says as we climb into the elevator, "hand it back to me 'fore them doors open!"

OOOOO

When Jasper is done circling the top three decks, we take the elevator down to the fifth-floor atrium, where the Towel Folding Contest is about to begin. We find a table situated as close as possible to where the action - of towel folding - is set to take place. At Jasper's surreptitious request, Edward inconspicuously helps Jasper set the ping-pong trophy on top of the table. Then, since there are only three chairs at the table, and all other chairs are quickly taken, I take a seat on Edward's lap.

"Don't get too comfortable there," Edward whispers in my ear,. Despite his words, his arms are wound snugly around my waist, holding me securely. "You've got a Towel Folding Contest coming, which you promised to enter if I entered the Sexiest Guy Contest. That was the deal."

"But I've got the best seat in the house right now," I tease, angling my head sideways to take him in while I furtively grind into his lap. I feel him harden, and my thighs instinctively clench.

"Mph," he grunts lowly, his eyes dark and hungry. "Yeah, you do. But you're still entering the contest."

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are.

"No, I'm not."

"Yeah, you are."

I cup a hand around his ear and whisper, "But what about that nice, thick hard-on you've got going? Everyone's going to see it if I stand up."

He chuckles and shakes his head, meeting my eyes. "Bella Swan, you're so...I swear to God, you'll be the death of me. You're entering the contest now...and taking care of _that_ later." He bucks his hips just enough to let me know to what _'that'_ he refers.

"Am I now?"

"You woke it up."

"I've noticed it doesn't tend to sleep much."

He snorts. "Not when you're around, no. Stop changing the subject."

I bounce peevishly, making Edward grunt again. "It's not fair, Edward. There are at least twice the number of people here that were at the Sexiest Guy Contest. It looks like everyone on board is here!"

"The Towel Folding Contest is a biggie on cruise ships, yeah. Wasn't that explained in your brochure?" he teases.

"So is the Ping-Pong tournament," Jasper grumbles, "and I got myself the trophy!"

"Yes, you did, darling," Alice reassures her husband, patting his liver-spotted hand and shooting me a not-so-subtle wink that makes me press my lips together.

It's in the middle of this fun yet inane conversation that I recall the fact that I haven't checked my phone in a couple of hours. On the heels of that recollection, I further recall that I'm wearing a pool cover-up with no pockets, and that I'm not carrying a bag, and that the last place I remember seeing my phone was next to me on the pool chair on Lido Deck. More than a little panicked, my breath hitches while I instinctively pat myself down despite knowing _I don't have my phone_.

"Relax," Edward says softly. He sets my cell phone on the table next to the trophy. "You left it on your pool chair when we were getting ready to go meet Alice and Jasper. Since you don't have pockets, and you're not carrying a bag, I grabbed it and stuck it in my pocket."

I'm flooded with relief that Edward has my phone and simultaneously pissed off at myself for being so damn...distracted that I forgot all about it and it's significance in the first place. I mean, losing your cell phone is one thing, but losing your phone when its your only connection to the outside world...

"I took a peek a short while ago. There were no calls."

So, he's checked my phone again. Again, two very different emotions compete for dominance: the fact that I'm nowhere near as bothered by that as I should be, and the fact that I'm kind of bothered about not being bothered. He's burrowing too deep, and I-

"You okay?"

"I panicked there for a moment."

"Yeah, you look pretty panicked right now."

For one moment, our gazes remain locked, and while I have no idea what he's thinking, I ponder to myself how much he does seem to know despite the fact that we've known one another for all of five days.

My thoughts are interrupted by the loud music and ensuing buzz that greet Jessica the Cruise Director's grand entrance into the atrium.

I've got to give it to the woman: she's literally been at every event so far that Edward and I have attended this cruise - from parties to trivia to poolside games to ping-pong tournaments and now this - and she's still spotless in her crisp white polo and blue Bermuda shorts, with nary a frizz to be found in her brown, curly ponytail. What's more, she's still bubbly and apparently on point because though the atrium is packed, and I'm more or less draped over Edward, Jessica notices him right away. She yells excitedly into the microphone in her cockney British accent.

"Edward love, you're here, and I'm just chuffed all over again!" She fans herself then proceeds to make an announcement with grand flourish toward Edward. "Ladies and gentleman, in case you missed it earlier, Edward here was runner-up at our poolside Sexiest Guy Contest! Though, he should've been the winner."

She adds the last part with a sly smile and in a not so quite aside sort of aside, the entire announcement spoken with all the pomp of someone announcing the actual winner - not runner-up - of the Nobel Peace Prize. Meanwhile, the whistles and cat calls that rise up on every floor of the open atrium match the tone of her announcement.

"Edward! Edward! Edward!"

It's amusingly distracting, almost as if half of the cruise ship knows him. Some of them even sound like they might be yelling out "autograph!", which is hilarious considering he was just runner-up at the poolside Sexiest Guy Contest.

And it's bedlam. Edward's cheeks turn scarlet while I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him hard, laughing. Yet somehow, despite the cacophony, someone on one of the upper atrium floors looking down manages to shout loud enough to make himself heard.

"Hey, hey, hey! _I_ was the actual winner of that Sexiest Guy Contest!"

The massive crowd erupts in an even rowdier ruckus, while Emmett's booming laughter frames it all.

When the commotion finally dies down, Jessica begins picking off six volunteers from the dozens and dozens of passengers with raised hands. As she picks off contestants from all over the atrium, my hands remain at my sides.

"We've got three volunteers. We need three more!"

"Isn't Bella supposed to be joining?" Alice asks Edward.

"Shh, Alice!" I say.

"She will," Edward says.

"If the girl don't want to join the contest, then the girl don't need to join the contest!"

"Alice and I are just saying" Edward says.

"Well, stop saying is what I'm saying! Poor girl. Probably don't want to be embarrassed when my trophy trumps hers!"

"Only one volunteer slot left!" Jessica announces. Her back is to us, and I prepare to breathe a sigh of relief when she points toward someone all the way in the back. "How about you, young-"

Edward clears his throat loudly, and I swear the woman spins around instantly as if he's shouted her name.

Edward lifts my hand high.

"Edward!" I hiss, trying to yank down my hand.

"Blimey! Is this the bees knees or what? Edward,would _you_ like to be our final volunteer?" Jessica shrieks eagerly.

"No, not me. My...Bella here."

"Oh," Jessica says, deflated. "Lovely. Just...lovely."

As I lift myself off his lap, I turn and shoot Edward a scathing glare.

"You're dead," I warn. "And I hope everyone sees your hard-on."

He chuckles, unfazed by my threats or my evil wishes, and winks and blows me a kiss. "Good luck."

"Good luck, Bella honey!" Alice calls out.

"Yeah. Good luck, girlie. Try not to get discouraged by the small trophy you'll likely win if you win! Hah!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have our final contestant! The brilliant Bella!"

After the applause dies down, Jessica sets up the six of us_ 'volunteers'_ with our own towel-folding station. She then moves to her own station, where she talks us and the audience through the steps of expertly folding a basic bath towel into an elephant. In about ninety seconds, she's done.

"And...Bob's your uncle! It's just that easy peasy, innit?"

The audience agrees with thunderous applause.

Honestly, the entire process does seem pretty simple and straightforward. No longer quite so pissed off at Edward, I shoot him a confident smile and a thumbs up.

He laughs hard as he returns the thumbs up. "All right, Bella!"

"Right then. What we'll do is set a timer for a whole of five minutes!" Jessica exclaims. "Though I'm sure none of our brilliant and talented contestants here will need the entire five minutes to create their own towel elephant. Therefore, the contestant who finishes first with a towel which actually resembles an elephant will win the contest and receive our grand Towel Folding Trophy!"

"Bet it won't be nothing like my Ping-Pong trophy!"

"Are we ready then? Ready, Steady, Go!"

The entire five minutes, at least on my end, is summed up by these type of statements:

"Bloody hell, what in heavens even is that you're folding the towel into? This is a family cruise, mate!"

"Bella, now that job has definitely gone pear-shaped! Are you plastered or something, love?"

"'Right, I am literally gobsmacked by what a botched job that there is! I don't think I've ever seen such a wonky elephant in my life!"

By the time time's up, my fellow passengers are laughing at me so hard that the ship's band has joined in with musical accompaniment.

And I'm laughing so hard at myself that my ribs hurt.

And laughing uncontrollably himself, Edward approaches and pulls me into his arms, lifting me off the floor.

"Now we're both losers," I say.

He brushes his lips against mine. "I'm good with that."

"Better luck next time joining the winner's circle, Bella!" Emmett calls down from one of the upper floors. "Love ya, kiddo!"

I ignore him because Edward's mouth moves against mine delectably, sucking on my top lip then on my bottom lip and then plunging his tongue deep between both lips - atrium full of passengers and misshapen towels be damned.

"Get a room, you two!" I hear Garrett shout, and then both he and his husband's loud chortles.

When I finally pull away to breathe, Edward sets me down, grinning.

My own grin falters when I catch a glimpse of someone over Edward's shoulder, just a few feet behind him. It's a person who, in the past few days, I've rarely thought of and even almost forgot I actually boarded the ship with _him_.

Quil's top lip curls, and he performs one of those slow, 'Aha, now I see,' nods. His shoulders rise and fall, while in my periphery and next to him, I think I see Jake scowling.

"What?" Edward asks. He turns and looks over his shoulder, but by then, Quil and Jake have been swallowed up by the swarming crowd.

"Nothing," I say and repeat it when Edward turns back to me with a curious frown. "Nothing."

"Are you sure?" he asks somewhat dubiously.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Oh, Bella," Alice sighs as she approaches with Jasper. "I was rooting for you until the very end despite those strange and rather erotic shapes you were twisting that towel into."

"Thank you, Alice," I smile and give her hand a squeeze, pushing Quil and his disturbing appearance out of my mind.

"Yeah, me too, girlie," Jasper grumbles, "even if your trophy would'a looked pitiful next to mine." He hefts his trophy high. "I'll let you take a picture with it."

"Thank you, Jasper," I grin, the unpleasant moment completely dispelled now. I won't have to deal with them until the flight home. "That's really thoughtful of you."

"Actually, Jasper, we should probably head back to our room for a short while so that you can take a little nap. Don't forget you promised Edward a story this evening during dinner."

"Don't need no nap," Jasper mumbles.

Besides," Alice continues, "I'm sure Edward and Bella would appreciate some time to freshen up before dinner." She gets on her tip toes and whispers in my ear. "Is an hour enough for...what is it that you young kids call them nowadays? A quickie?"

I shut my eyes and chuckle quietly. "Alice."

OOOOO

She's not wrong.

After another marathon run back to our- I mean, Edward's suite, we barely make it past the door. As soon as it slams shut behind us, Edward pushes me against it and crashes his mouth to mine. Cradling my hips between his large hands, he strokes my heated skin through the thin material of my dress. Our kisses are instantly frenzied, his mouth on mine then on my neck then around a thinly-covered breast.

I throw my head back and fist his hair. "I'm aching for you so badly it's almost painful."

"I'll take care of you, baby. Jesus, Bella, it's like I can't go more than a couple of hours without needing to touch you...to be inside you..."

There's no denying that it's _very_ sexual, this thing between us. We can barely keep our hands off one another in public, much less in private.

But then...how does he know how much his kindness to Alice and Jasper means to me?

How does he know, when we're out on the islands, to take me to the quiet hiking trails as opposed to the fancy resorts? Or that I'll enjoy a stupid towel folding contest no matter how much I pretend to protest? How does he know to grab my phone and check it even if some part of me rebels against it?

It's sexual, this attraction between us, but...

But again, I have no time to study it further because Edward straightens and fists the material of my dress, pulling it over my head in one smooth motion. Having foregone a bra, I'm left in my panties, breathless and squirming between him and the door while he takes me in through eyes darkened by undeniable lust.

"Please...please touch me."

I've never in my life been so turned on by my own shameless begging.

"God, you're beautiful," he says, voice almost strangled with awe as he gazes at me as if he hasn't seen me like this almost perpetually since we boarded this ship.

When he kisses and touches me - while I'm almost naked and he's still fully dressed in his nice polo and Bermuda shorts - it's deliciously erotic. I feel both powerful and overpowered by the knowledge that he can't even stop touching me long enough to take off his own clothes, and by the texture of _his_ clothing as it brushes against me - they smell like him: like cologne and sea and Edward and want, and as he pins me against the door, every nerve ending in my body sings. His mouth devours my skin and his hands knead and stroke. When he pushes in a finger, I whimper and again throw back my head.

"Yes...yes...thank you," I breathe.

Edward chuckles. "Shh, they'll hear you through the door, my love," he murmurs, mouth on mine.

"I don't care."

"You sure?" His mouth trails lower, wet kisses on the space between my breasts then further down to my stomach.

"I'm sure..." I confirm, fisting his hair. Honestly, the ship could literally sink at the moment and I wouldn't give a damn as long as Edward's fingers and mouth continue what they're doing. "I'm so damn sure."

He grips my hips, and I hold my breath while his warm breath hovers in just the right spot. With the first long lap, my back arches and my hips buck, legs completely giving out. But Edward holds me up while my mouth falls open in a silent scream; though I'm silenced not by shame or a thought to whether I can be heard on the other side of the door, but simply because it's so good I can't breathe much less make a sound.

"I thought you didn't care if they heard you."

I hear the humor in his voice, despite what he's doing. When I yank him up by his hair, he complies instantly, looking disheveled and more than a little confused about why I've stopped him.

"Oh _God_," he expels when I flip us around and push his back against the door. As I drop to my knees, there's desperation in his movements as he helps me unbuckle his belt, and he pulls down his own zipper. I almost laugh when I take him, and he bangs his head hard against the door, winding my hair around his fist and guiding me as he utters delicious obscenities in a strangled voice and between guttural groans.

"It's _you_ I want everyone to hear," I tease when my mouth is free.

"Bella...it's you I...I...I lo-"

I stand up fast.

My mouth finds his with almost bruising force, and when he pulls away, eyes dark and fiery, I'm momentarily frightened. But not of him.

Seeing Quil has served as a reminder: there's a world beyond this damn ship, and there's a reckoning coming one way or another, from one place or the other. I won't escape this unscathed, no matter what.

And really? He was going to let those words slip out while I was on my knees in front of him?

And all the while, Edward looks as pissed off as I feel. Yet, instead of the reckoning, he picks me up and carries me to the bed, laying me across the plush mattress. However, he doesn't proceed to lay his body over me. He circles the bed frame languidly, eyes on me as he reaches behind his nape and yanks off his polo. Once. Twice. Three times he circles the bed.

"Edward..."

He resembles a lithe copper-haired lion circling its prey, nostrils flaring, jaw locked, broad shoulders straight and tense. Even when he climbs the bed, he does so in an unhurried, gracefully measured manner - one, powerful arm followed by a sinewy leg then the other. His tendons visibly stretch as he scales upward.

"Edward, please..."

"What do you want, Bella? Tell me what you want from me?"

He almost growls the words as he crawls up my body, hovering, supporting his frame on rigid arms, corded muscles straining as he waits for my answer.

"You," I breathe.

"You _want_ me?"

"Yes."

"You want me how, inside you?"

"Yes."

He drives in so fast and deep that I gasp wildly in as much surprise as undeniable pleasure. When my back instinctively arches, Edward wraps an arm around me and holds me against his chest as he thrusts and grunts and buries his face against my neck.

And despite the haze of lust enveloping me, I can't help thinking that...he's avoiding my gaze. And even as we cry out in mutual ecstasy, I can't help fearing that we're doing something massively wrong here.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**"See" you soon. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**So, it seems this story might be the only "cruise time" we may be getting for a while, huh?**

**No matter where you are or what activities you're up to, stay safe, my loves (and wash those hands really good while singing the chorus to 'Raspberry Beret'). ;)**

**I think...we have less than a handful of chapters left. :)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.**

**Seven Nights – Chapter 13**

* * *

_**September 1955:**_

_I sat sideways on the plastic bench on my side of the diner booth and pulled a long drag from my cigarette, blowing out the smoke to my left so it wouldn't touch her pretty face…and so I wouldn't have to meet her big blue eyes._

"_It won't work, dolly." I hoped she didn't hear the way my voice quivered. "You and I…it's been a crazy cool summer, yeah, and we've had a blast, but we're way too different."_

"_We are different, Jasper, which is what makes us so great together."_

_Unlike me, Alice didn't need no cigarettes to appear cool and calm. I could feel her eyes on my face as she faced forward. I'd dragged the ashtray to my corner of the table, and as I shakily flicked my ashes into it, I watched the singed particles morph into a salt and pepper mound of nothin.'_

"_Your big daddy is a total square, Al, and he'd never dig it. To him, it's all about the bread, and I ain't got none."_

"_Well, that's fine because I have plenty for both of us."_

"_And if he threatens to cut you off?" I asked, glaring at the ashtray._

"_Then we'll live off of love."_

"_That's more than a bit naïve and idealistic," I snorted._

_It was meant as an insult, as a way to hurt her with my admitted condescension, but in my periphery, I could see she didn't even flinch._

_There'd been lively tunes playin' in the jukebox when Alice and I first walked into the diner. Couples were cuttin' a rug, cats twirlin' their dames while wide skirts went flyin'. The harried servers bringin' around the burgers and shakes held them trays high, fightin' desperately to avoid collisions. I ached to take my Alice's hand and give her a twirl cuz she was the best damn dance partner I'd ever had._

_But that wasn't what we there for that day. Besides, some idiot dreamboat aimin' for a neckin' session had put his five cents into the jukebox, and out popped a tune that'd become popular over the summer for the tenderness it inspired in the dames, what with its moon-eyed lyrics and heartrending instruments. It was the original version of a hit that's been covered many times since. I'm sure even you kids would recognize it._

'_**Oh, my love, my darlin' I've hungered for your touch a long, lonely time…'**_

_Now them couples on the dance floor were slowly swayin', dames heads on their guys' shoulders while the guys wrapped their hands possessively around their girls. Between all that and between the optimism in Alice's words and voice, I was steamin'._

_I took another long drag. "I'm a germ to his kind, and he just wants an ivy leaguer for you."_

"_Why are we talking about what my father wants? What about what I want, Jasper? This summer, you're the one who taught me that it's beyond okay, that it's my damn right as a woman to demand for myself that which the current institutions denies me and the rest of my sex. You're the one who's pointed out how inconsequential gender, class, color, and money are when it comes to a person's worth. Why are we sitting here talking about my father and my money?"_

_Here, my eyes flashed, and I finally looked up furiously, not outraged at her, no, but at the unfairness of it all because when it came to it, I couldn't__**,**__ in good conscience, walk the walk that I talked._

'_**Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea. To the open arms of the sea…'**_

"_Because, Al, in general terms, yeah, equality is real, but when it comes down to me and you-"_

"_Why?" she persisted, laying her palms flat across the table and leaning in closer, challenging me. "Why is it different when it comes down to you and me?"_

_When I banged a palm against the table, she didn't even blink much less back away. She'd said I was the one who taught her things, that I was the dauntless one. But the woman was innately courageous and intelligent and too good for an alley cat like me._

_And she was a knock-out to boot._

"_Because you deserve better, damn it! Because I should'a never taken up with you, dolly! You was always too rich for my blood, and I knew it! From the beginning, I knew this would never work in the long run, and I should'a ignored the way your kittenish, sweet baby blues looked up at me on that stage! I should'a let my eyes wander right past you and to the next broad because __**you**__ didn't belong there!"_

_Despite my outburst, Alice held my gaze serenely. She was bred to be a fine lady, who didn't throw temper tantrums in cheap diners. While I waited for her response, the cigarette in my hand burned down to a stump._

"_What about all the time we spent together this summer? What about everything we've shared – the poetry, the protests, the good times, the laughs…the sex?"_

"_Ally…" Her name erupted shakily, the way it did when we necked, when I breathed it like a prayer between us. Over the course of the entire summer, I'd never been able to simultaneously say her name and look at her without tremblin' because whenever I did both at once, it was like grantin' her permission to peek into my soul._

_I put out the stump and pulled out another cig from my deck of Luckies, lightin' it with quiverin' hands. When I spoke, I forced myself to keep the tremor out of my voice and hold her gaze._

"_That ain't your world, Ally. That was all a distraction from your real world."_

"_I don't want that other, supposedly real world."_

"_It was a distraction for me too," I continued stoically. "You got a good thing goin', Al, a good life ahead a' ya if you stay steady to the path you were born to."_

"_Listen to me, Jasper." She leaned in all the closer so that her blue eyes were all I saw. "Listen to what I'm saying. I don't want that life."_

"_Al, I ain't gonna pull you away from all that to be an alley girl to an alley cat with no real home," I hissed, "always on the road, and with nothin' I can call my own!"_

_She scrutinized me carefully, holdin' me locked in her gaze._

"_So, you'd rather know I returned to my old life, married James, the rich banker Daddy's got picked out for me, popped out three of his kids, and all while being an obedient wife and throwing weekly parties for our rich friends at our Park Avenue address."_

_I swallowed hard past the excruciating lump in my throat caused by the picture she'd just painted. Then, I put the final nail in my own coffin._

"_It's how it was always gonna end, girlie. This was only for the summer. Though, I am sorry I took your vir-"_

_Before I could finish, she picked up her chocolate shake and flung its sweet, sticky contents right in my face. The diner's patrons, both the dancin' and the eatin' ones, all stopped and gasped._

"_That's what you apologize for? Out of all the hurtful things you just spent the past half hour spewing at me, that's what you choose to apologize for? Taking my virginity? You arrogant, sexist fool," she said as I wiped off my face with the rough paper from the table's napkin dispenser. "You didn't take it; I willingly gave it as is my right, and I don't give a damn about that, just as I'm sure James won't give a damn as long as I haven't given away my trust fund along with my cherry," she sneered._

"_Al-"_

"_Yet, that's the world you want me to go back to. You're a hypocrite, Jasper Whitlock, that's what you are. I may be idealistic, but you're a hypocritical cynic. You claim you believe in things, but you believe in nothing but the rightness of your own beliefs. You spend your days and nights preaching about equality and about the misplaced belief in a manmade morality code, yet here you are, taking the opposite stance from all you supposedly stand for."_

"_Al-"_

"_Between being a doubter or a dreamer, Jasper, I'd rather be a dreamer."_

_I swallowed hard…because she was right, but at that moment, I couldn't see it._

"_Just don't hate me, Ally," I whispered._

"_I don't hate you." She offered me a wistful smile that twisted my insides. "I'll never hate you because, despite everything, you did teach me plenty. You opened my eyes to injustice and to our responsibility in fighting it. For all that, I'll always be grateful I met you. But I won't spend the rest of my life stuck on this summer, Jasper."_

"_Alice-"_

_She stood and looked down, waiting for me to work up the nerve to look up at her, but like I said, she was the brave one. I can still see her in my periphery: wide, red skirt; fitted white blouse, and a black belt around her tiny waist, a waist my arms ached to encircle. When I finally forced myself to look up, I craved a touch of the soft brown waves under her cap and brushing against her smooth neck. I wanted to wind her hair around my fingers, kiss those red lips, gaze into those blue eyes._

_Alice brushed a scarlet-gloved finger down my cheek._

"_Goodbye, Jasper. Thanks for the memories."_

_I knew right then and there I'd made an awful mistake._

OOOOO

"Then why did you allow her to leave?" Edward asks Jasper, disbelief thick in his tone.

Over six decades since the events of Jasper's story, he, Alice, Edward, and I sit at an outdoor table in a quiet corner of a cruise ship. We've just finished our casual buffet dinner. It was nothing like the exclusively private dinner Edward and I shared a couple of nights ago, with our own chef and our own little band. There are other passengers at tables around us, and we're close enough to the action where we can still hear the ship's band and feel the vibration from its instruments.

But the sea is just as dark blue here. The sun still sets in streaks of peach and gold. Alice and Jasper's company is an enjoyable addition.

Or, at least, it was enjoyable until Jasper's story.

Nonetheless, something has been off between Edward and me even before Jasper began relaying his tale. He's pensive. Though his hand holds mine, his grip is stiff and lax. He seems a thousand miles away, and I wonder if, in his mind, he's already picked himself up and headed back to Miami.

What's more, with each passing moment in Jasper's tale, Edward's mood seems to darken.

"What'd you expect me to do, sonny boy, tie her down? Anyway, it's not like I had much of a choice at that point," Jasper retorts. "This woman here has always had a temper."

At his side, Alice giggles. "I have."

"And at that point…well, I suppose I'd hurt her too much."

"He's right. There was no way in hell I would've stayed at that point. He's lucky I didn't ask for another shake so I could throw it in his face."

"Hmph," Jasper harrumphs.

"But time…" Alice smiles, "and situations have a way of putting things into perspective."

"So you made up quickly?" I ask.

Alice shrugs. "That depends on what you consider quickly. Don't forget you're talking to a couple who's been together for over sixty years."

"What happened was we ran into one another once again three years later-"

"_Three _years later?" Edward practically shouts.

A few of our fellow passengers look over. I squeeze Edward's hand, while he rakes an agitated hand through his hair.

"You want to be the star of this here story hour, sonny?" Jasper asks.

"Sorry," Edward says. "I apologize, sir. Please," he exhales, "continue."

"Well, as I said before I was rudely interrupted, Alice and I ran into one another, quite by chance, three years later. It was September 1958, in Little Rock, Arkansas. Don't know how your history is, since you kids nowadays don't know nothin' 'bout the struggles of the world before you were born, but September 1958 in Little Rock was a godforsaken hell. The year before, the federal government had decreed the integration of Little Rock Central High School, and nine brave African-American students were the first to attend the previously all-white high school. It was a rough year for them, full of physical and verbal abuse. Yet, as if that wasn't enough, at the close of that school year, Arkansas' racist governor, Orval Faubus, hatched a plan to keep African-American students out of the Little Rock Public Schools the followin' school year. I was there assistin' the ACLU-

"Excuse me, sir, but you're a lawyer?"

"What? Yes, sonny, I'm a lawyer! Retired now, but pay attention!"

"I apologize once again, sir."

"As I said, I was there assistin' the ACLU in fightin' the dirty rat bastard governor. By then, I'd been keepin' myself busy for the past three years, tryin' not to think too much of a certain dark-haired woman I'd once known, wonderin' what she was up to, torturin' myself with thoughts of her bein' married, havin' kids, all that sort of fun stuff. And yeah, I know it was torture I brought on myself. Anyway, one day, I walked into our temporary offices in downtown Little Rock, and I was told we'd gotten some more help overnight - a young, female law student from New York City, who-"

"It was Alice," Edward guesses.

"Congratulations, sonny. You want to finish tellin' the story since you seem to know it so well?" Jasper flourishes his hands in invitation.

"Jasper, stop it," Alice chuckles, swatting her husband's arm.

"Hmph."

"Yes, sweetheart," Alice says to Edward. "It was me.

"Within the hour, I was beggin' her to forgive me," Jasper smirks. "I won't even try to deny it. So yeah, you can say we made up pretty quickly."

"I…don't know if I'd term the preceding three years as making up 'quickly,' sir."

"What? You're an expert on my Alice and me now?"

"Jasper," Alice says in quiet warning.

"But he thinks he's an expert on our history now," Jasper gripes, flinging a hand accusingly toward Edward.

"Edward, honey," Alice says, smiling maternally at him, "I suppose Jasper and I now see this period as a small separation in a relationship that's spanned over sixty years now."

Edward nods. "I see. I suppose when you have sixty years together under your belt…"

"Yes. Jasper apologized profusely for how stupid he'd been back in that diner three years earlier. He said he'd broken my heart under the misapprehension that I'd easily return to my life the way it'd been before him, thinking that he was taking me away from a safe and happy life. Thinking he knew me better than I knew myself. But he'd grown in the preceding three years, and I'd carved a path of my own. I was pursuing my degree, finding my own way, and he realized how wrong about me and narrow-mindedly faithless in our relationship he'd been."

"I did," Jasper nods. "I realized how cynical and skeptical I'd been all my life, and with my sweet and always optimistic Alice by my side, I'd be able to temper all that. Which is why you see the always buoyant, always positive, and always pleasant man before you now."

He puffs out his chest, and I press my lips together while Alice shoots me a conspiratorial wink. Edward clears his throat but says nothing.

"Though, she did make me grovel a bit," Jasper mutters.

"I did not make you grovel," Alice contradicts with a giggle. "It wasn't my fault I was engaged!"

"Well then who's fault was it?" Jasper counters. "You weren't engaged to me!"

While Alice and Jasper continue, Edward scrubs a hand down his face.

"I'm sorry. Alice, did you say you were _engaged_?"

"Well, I did promise I wouldn't remain stuck on that summer," she smiles impishly. I was engaged not to James, but to a really nice young man, another Civil Rights lawyer by the name of _Thurgood_. You may have heard of him."

"You're kidding, Alice," I breathe.

"I am _not_," she sing-songs, smiling slyly. "As soon as Jasper apologized, I called Thurgood and broke it off. Then I took Jasper back to my hotel room and-"

"And me and my Alice did more than neckin' all night long. Hah! Got married a couple 'a months later. Popped out our first of three boys a year after that. My Alice and I opened up our own equal rights law firm a few years later, and then…"

"Then…here we are," Alice smiles, "retired, cruising, and meeting you two wonderful kids."

Both Edward and I smile weakly in return.

"What's the matter?" Jasper smirks. "Not quite what you were expectin'? What? Did'ja think it was gonna be one of them fairy tales your generation likes believin' in?"

When I give Edward's hand a squeeze, he returns it faintly, shaking his head and sighing.

"Three years later _and_ engaged," he murmurs. Then he exhales long and hard. "Thank you both, for sharing your story."

OOOOO

Afterward, we walk Alice and Jasper to their room because Jasper quietly asks Edward for help moving the large, Ping-Pong Tournament trophy around. Their suite is on the same deck as Edward's suite but on the other side of the ship.

"Careful there, sonny! Don't drop my trophy now that our deal's complete!" Jasper tells Edward while he determines the best spot for his trophy.

Edward chuckles quietly. "I wouldn't do that, sir."

"How 'bout we set it down right there on my side of the bed? Yeah, there. Careful, careful! Actually, no, not there. I might trip on it when I get up at night to pee. How about over there by the TV? Yeah, there. No, not there! I might trip over it when I get the remote! How 'bout-"

While these instructions continue, Alice turns to me with an amused smile.

"How about we step out onto the balcony while they finish with that?"

"Sure," I grin.

The air is warm outside, the night black and moonless, but a Milky Way of stars illuminates the sky. Alice and I stand side by side at the railing, gazing out at the beautifully pure blackness before us.

"It's so peaceful out here," I murmur.

"It is," Alice agrees. Turning to me, she picks up my hand and squeezes it. "You and your young man were sure quiet this evening, and as much as you both seemed to look forward to hearing it, I don't think either of you enjoyed Jasper's and my love story."

I offer her a reassuring smile. "It was an amazing story. It's just that Edward and I had a bit of a…" I snort, "I'm not even sure what it was. I wasn't a fight because we were…" My eyes pan away from her and into the darkness. "I'm not sure what he wants from me." Once I blurt that, I seem unable to stop. "And anyway, he's not my young man. He's a guy I met on a cruise." I return my eyes to her. "Alice, do you remember when you and I met a few days ago, and you told me to find someone to kiss and kiss often while on this cruise?"

"And boy, did you find one!"

"And he's been…but when the cruise ends…back home, my mom is really sick," – Alice squeezes my hand again and places her other, bejeweled hand on my arm – "and I've got her waiting for me, and responsibilities I can't keep putting off, and an ugly break-up I won't be able to keep ignoring, and…"

Alice's ensuing chuckle floats in the air and wafts out into the nebulous night.

"You've got real life waiting for you beyond this ship and these waters." She tilts her head sideways and scrutinizes me. "Boy, you sound a bit like my Jasper, you know that?"

I smirk at her. "Jasper's a sweetie, but he's just a teeny, tiny bit," I squeeze two fingertips together, "cynical. I'm being _realistic_."

"He's an ornery fuck is what he is," she chuckles, "always has been and always will be. But he's also my life; always has been and always will be. However, you're being realistic as opposed to cynical, huh?"

For a moment, I can imagine what Jasper meant when he said it was hard to hold Alice's gaze for too long without feeling like she was peeking into your soul.

She cups my cheek. "Just remember a couple of things, sweetheart. First, real life is always, always just around the corner – even on a cruise ship. And second, everyone's got their _own_ story to tell. It's up to each individual to make up their own ending."

OOOOO

We've made plans to meet the group at one of the clubs on board, so we stop by Edward's suite to change. It's strange, how so much of my clothes have somehow ended up in his room. We move politely yet quietly around one another. I use the bathroom first to change into a short, bodycon blue skirt and matching top. When I'm done, he uses the restroom to change while I apply some makeup in the cabin and exchange the flats for heels.

When we're done, we meet by the door.

Edward takes my hand. "You look beautiful," he grins, but though he sounds sincere, the grin doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Thanks." I smile in return and allow my eyes to wander over his crisp, white button-down; dark, slim slacks and matching slim jacket. "You look great too."

He brushes his lips against my forehead, lingering for a moment.

"Bella…" he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in my periphery, "I have something for you later, okay, and maybe then…"

He pulls back and holds my gaze.

"Okay."

"Let's go."

As we make our way down the hallway, I realize it's the first time in the few, short days we've spent together that we've stepped into that room for more than a minute and haven't gone at it like fucking bunnies - literally. There's a tension between us, and we shuffle awkwardly through it, side by side. As we stand and wait for the elevator, I look up at him and smile. He smiles in return.

When we step off the elevator, the club's loud beats makes the entire deck shake and reverberate. There's a long line bending around the corner, made up of scantily-clad people, some already dancing and drinking. I'm not even surprised when Edward takes my hand, and we bypass the line. He steps right up to the bouncers and leans into one, saying something I have no chance of hearing over the pounding music just inside. The bouncer looks up at Edward and nodding in some sort of acknowledgment, he lifts the rope and steps aside. With his hand on the small of my back, Edward leads me within.

Despite the dark surroundings and the deafening acoustics, we locate the rest of the group pretty quickly. For the next hour or so, we hang out by the bar because the dance floor is way too crowded. We dance goofily among one another while enjoying a few drinks. The music's pounding drowns out absolutely everything. It's too loud to think much less for any sort of meaningful conversation. Charlotte and I are by the bar and sipping on Caipirinhas, yelling into one another's ears to try to hear one word out of ten when Edward takes my hand. Grinning, he begins pulling me toward the dance floor. Charlotte takes my drink out of my hand and smiles at me as Edward leads me away.

We squeeze onto the crowded dance floor, and Edward curves his hands around my hips while I wrap my arms around his neck. The strobe lights flicker across his handsome face and pick out the copper highlights in his dark hair. They make his sea-green eyes shine, his irises sparkle. His thumbs stroke my bare hips. My fingertips play with the wisps at his nape. And as always happens between us, the rest of the club disappears. We may as well be alone on this packed dancefloor. Edward moves in and brushes his lips softly against mine, back and forth…back and forth. When he pulls away, our foreheads meet, gazes holding. We remain that way for what feels like forever.

When I cradle his stubbly face, he turns sideways and kisses my palm, making my skin prickle and my heart…my heart race. He moves in, his lips right on my ear, kissing my lobe before he hovers very closely so that I catch most of what he says – catch the gist, at least.

"What…Jasper…in that diner? That Alice…best dance partner…ever had?"

I nod, smiling.

"Bella, _you're_ the best…I've ever…."

He pulls back and holds my gaze before moving in again.

"…gone about this...wrong...I don't want to be here…now."

I turn and kiss his neck, murmuring in return. "Me neither, Edward. Me neither."

"Let's get out…can't wait any longer to tell…"

My breath hitches. "What the _fuck_?" I feel myself shriek the words wildly because the music is too loud to hear myself as I spin around to see who the hell just very purposely pressed his groin against my ass.

The music blares in my ears. The strobe lights, the same lights which just highlighted Edward's soft expression, now flash glaringly against my eyes and momentarily blind me. When the glare moves away, the lingering light highlights Quil's sneering grin.

The next few minutes erupt into Bedlam.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Almost done…**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**Heading toward the finish line here.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.**

* * *

**Seven Nights – Chapter 13**

For the first minute, it's all like a strange shit show, one of the cruise ship's spectaculars, an off-Broadway production at sea or an entertainment event created by the cruise line and set to pulsating music and flashing, freeze-frame strobes.

My hand instinctively swings and connects with a cheek, and in the quivering lights, I watch almost in slow motion as Quil's face jerks sideways.

In the next moment, I'm no longer part of the action. Someone's manacle-like hold pulls me out of the spotlight, and no matter how hard I struggle against this person, I'm relegated to a part of the audience. Yet, instead of a spacious stage and stage lights, the two main players in the act have a packed dance floor and a colorful spectrum of pulsing energy lights.

In the surrounding darkness, the lights flicker mesmerizingly across both of them, only fractionally illuminating first one taunting face then the other outraged one. The obscurity in the background and the blinking in the foreground invite the audience to use their imagination; they highlight and freeze first a mocking, curled-lip sneer, then a livid, square-jawed glower. The pounding music mimics the hammering in my heart and in my temples. It also makes the players' furiously-spoken lines inaudible, but the intense flare above them clearly traces the snarling lips of one shouted, "FUCK YOU!" then flits to the resoundingly-howled, "MOTHERFUCKER!"

Back and forth the blazing light travels across stiffening shoulders, tightening fists, and threatening crouches. It pauses only momentarily on each, just long enough to make the audience hold their collective breath.

Then a group of black-tee-shirt-wearing bouncers appear and grab Edward and Quil, bending their arms behind their backs as they shove through the gathered audience and haul the two main players out of the club. Edward's friends and I follow.

Once outside, the bouncers stand between Edward and Quil, holding them back while hissing furiously into their two-way radios. Another audience forms around us, spectators who've followed from inside the club as well as those fortunate enough to have been walking by out here or waiting to be allowed entry.

And all the while, bellowed words fly.

"How fucking dare you touch her, you piece of shit!"

"The fuck do you think you are! I can touch her whenever I want!"

Among the spectators, Jake and Leah stand behind Quil, phone cameras out and pointed at us. A bunch of spectators do the same. Whispered murmurs carry in the air. A couple of times, I think I hear Edward's name between those murmurs, but I have no time to wonder while Emmett, Garrett, and the rest of us stand behind Edward.

A handful of ship security appear, the lead who swiftly takes command and stands between Edward and Quil, barking out orders.

"All right! You all need to shut the hell up and dispel right this instant or you'll get thrown off the ship!" he tells the crowd.

Once most of the crowd does as told – though a few brave or stupid souls shuffle about – he turns to Edward and Quil.

"And you two, there's a zero-tolerance policy for fighting on this ship, no matter who you are. If you all continue, your entire group will get kicked off at the next port in the morning!"

I lay my shaking hands on Edward's stiffened arm, feeling the chords of muscle straining against my palms, aching to release all that built-up tension. Angling my head sharply upward, I move to his side and wait for him to meet my gaze because out here in the relative light and in the visibility and audibility of the deck, my sense has returned.

"Edward," I say clearly and evenly, "Edward, let's go."

But Edward appears lost in a haze of fury.

"You rat bastard, you don't touch a woman without her permission!"

Quil expels a bitter laugh. "Yeah, motherfucker, I had to remind you of whose girlfriend she was."

"Enough!" the security guard shouts.

"He put his fucking hands on her!" Edward howls.

The security guard looks at me. "Is that true, Miss?"

Without taking my eyes off of Edward, I nod.

"She punched me in the face!"

"Because you groped her, you fucking asshole!" Edward hisses.

The security sighs. "Are we pressing charges here?"

"No. I just want to drop this and go," I snap.

"Bella-"

"Edward, let's just _go_."

I hear Quil's laughter ring out, but my gaze remains steady on Edward.

"I won't press charges either then, baby." I hear him blow me a kiss. "It was a lover's quarrel."

"Motherfu-"

"Edward, ignore him."

"All right, buddy," the bouncer says, "she may not be pressing charges, but you're off the ship when we dock in Puerto Rico in the morning. We have a zero-tolerance policy toward groping. 'Til then, you're confined to your room. Let's go."

"What the fuck?" Quil yells. "But I paid good money for this cruise!"

Edward slowly pivots his head toward Quil, upper lip curling in a snarl. "It's not fucking enough. I should've beat the shit out of you when you pulled that shit a few days ago."

"Fuck you, asshole," Quil snickers. "And what _I_ pulled a few days ago? Who the fuck has been fucking my girl since we boarded this ship?"

My breath hitches sharply. I feel my face flame while the remaining spectators gasp.

"Asshole, she hasn't been your girl since before she and I got together! And even when she was, what kind of a fucking man would-"

I grab Edward's jaw before he can continue, and I force his eyes to mine. Instead of his usual sea-green gaze, I find a dark, glowering forest alit in a fiery blaze.

"Edward, _stop,_ and let's go!"

Meanwhile, the verbal sparring around us continues.

"I saw how he looked at your girl from the moment we boarded this ship!" Jake says.

"Yeah, I saw it too!" Leah agrees with her boyfriend, both of them egging Quil on. "And you should've seen how she smiled when I told her - fucking bitch."

"Hey, what the hell?" Charlotte says. "What kind of backward thinker calls another woman that name in this day and age?"

"And why don't you two just stay out of it?" Pete calls out.

"Why don't you mind your fucking business?" Leah retorts.

"They're our friends; it _is_ our fucking business!" Carmen yells back.

"Guys, don't get yourselves in trouble too for this," Irina says.

My nostrils flare, but she's right. "Guys, let's just go!"

"Bella is right; let's go." Emmett sets down the order, standing behind Edward, his hands curved in a vice grip around Edward's shoulders. "You're making this worse for _both_ of you," he murmurs close to Edward's ear. "Let's go."

Nostrils flaring and chest heaving, Edward begins a slow turn. Emmett walks directly behind his brother, and I flank him on the right while Pete walks to his left. The rest of the group trails behind us somewhere. The ensuing argument with the security guards follows us.

"What the fuck do you mean we're getting confined to our rooms too?" Jake yells. "What the fuck did _we_ do?"

"Ship rules, buddy. The entire group gets locked down and put off the ship at the next port."

"That's not fucking fair!" Leah exclaims. "What about their group?"

"They're walking away, Miss, and besides, your friend admitted to groping. We have a zero-tolerance policy on those sorts of things on this ship."

"That's not fucking fair!" Jake continues griping. "What, because he's a shitty, half-assed, music producer, he and his group get to walk away?"

My brow furrows in momentary confusion, but I have heftier concerns at the moment.

"Nice, Bella," Quil shouts at our retreating backs. "Looks like you're one of the groupies now, huh? You faithless bitch, you went and found yourself one of the rich boy's and-"

Edward is already halfway back to Quil when Emmett and Pete manage to physically subdue him and push him to his knees.

"DON'T YOU EVER CALL HER THAT AGAIN OR I'LL KNOCK OUT EVERY LAST ONE OF YOUR-"

"EDWARD, STOP!" I shout, cradling his face, my heart hammering in my chest.

"I won't let him talk about you that way!"

"Whatever he says is meaningless! Ignore him!"

"Hold him the hell back!" the head security guard growls as he stands between Edward and Quil once more. "Now, you _all_ need to come with us!"

"What? This is ridiculous!" Irina shrieks.

"Irina, shut up," Carmen hisses impatiently.

Meanwhile, Quil laughs while the security guards take him away. Two more follow Leah and Jake close behind, and a couple of others follow behind us, leading us all in the same direction.

"Boy, you ain't even all that! You're the type whose pretty face flashes onscreen at the music awards, and only the assholes know who the fuck you are! But go ahead, Bella; go have your fun. Either way, you're going to have to get back on that plane home in a couple of days and return to your real world! And your little asshole 'll forget all about you and move on to the next groupie!"

"Don't acknowledge him, Edward," I say tiredly, squeezing his hand. "There's no point. He's goading you, and acknowledging him will only make things worse."

Edward shuts his eyes and locks his angular jaw so tightly the bones protrude.

"At least control that asshole's mouth," Garrett counters, waving a hand toward Quil, "because that's seriously some low fucking shit he's spewing. Jesus."

"Sir, shut the hell up," one of the security guards shouts at Quil in frustration. "_You_ are already getting kicked off. Keep it up, and we'll add jail time to that, and you won't be flying home to anywhere in a couple of days."

Quil is finally silenced.

Surrounded by security guards, we're all escorted to a part of the ship I've never seen and down looping stairwells, then further down to a deck most cruise passengers will never step foot on. It's bland white on endless white – white banisters, white walls, white-uniformed officers. There's no music following us down here, no shows or buffets and no hint of sunrise or sunset.

And all the while, Edward walks beside me stiffly, still fuming.

"Calm down. There's nothing we can do now," I say, giving his hand another stoic squeeze. I'm trying not to be too upset even though I told him to ignore Quil. Instead, I attempt to take it all in with a sort of detached sense of resignation and interest because there's really nothing we can do now other than wait and see how this shit show ends.

It's then, once immediate fear subsides and is replaced by resignation for our current predicament that it hits me. And it's accompanied by a sense of either needless panic or ironic foreboding so powerful that I stop in my tracks.

"Edward, where's my phone?"

Edward stops and instinctively checks his pockets, his eyes growing wide.

"I don't have it, Bella."

"But you had it."

"I…I must've left in the room."

"Sir, ma'am, you have to keep walking," one of the security guards behind us orders.

"Can I please just go back upstairs to our room and get something?" I plead.

"No, ma'am," the guard says clearly and succinctly. He jerks his jaw forward. "Please keep walking."

"But I forgot my phone. I promise I'll be right back."

"Ma'am, you can get your phone later."

"But you don't understand. I need that phone _now_."

"Ma'am, _no_," the guard repeats impatiently. "No one is going back to their room right now. You were warned to walk away, yet you all kept going."

"That wasn't her, that was me," Edward says. "Just let her go. Let her get her phone, and you can kick me off at the next stop and do whatever else you want."

"Mr. Masen, the ship's policy and protocol instruct us to collect the entire group present when there's an incident. If you needed that phone that badly, you should've walked away when you had the chance."

"My mom is sick, and I need that phone."

"Ma'am, I'm sorry," the guard says with a bit more feeling, "but I have to follow protocol. Once we get downstairs, and we speak with the head of security, you can ask if there's some way to retrieve your phone. But now, we have to move forward."

The guard jerks his jaw forward once again.

I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I reopen them, Edward's eyes are on me, all his fury of a few moments earlier burned away and replaced by embers of guilt and self-reproach.

"Bella, I'm so sorry."

I take a deep breath and walk ahead of him because all I can think of right now…all I can _feel_ is that I should have that phone with me.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Facebook: Stories by PattRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

"**See" you soon.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**Wow. I don't even know what to say about all that's going on in the world. Just…keep safe, my loves, and I hope this little story is serving to distract you guys for just a bit, just as writing it serves to distract me. 3**

**I wanted to get further into this chapter, but I ran out of time and had to get back to RL. So…I'll try to keep the daily updates going 'til we're done. (Can't make any promises though!) ;)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.**

* * *

**Seven Nights – Chapter 15**

**One Month Before the Cruise:**

"Holy shit, look at the size of that guy I just took down!" Quil chuckled. "Did you see that, Bella? Did you? I just riddled him with bullets!"

"What?"

Quil sucked his teeth. "Will you set that down and pay attention to me? I just took out the biggest guy in the game and doubled my score, and you totally missed it!"

"Quil, give me a sec. I'm doublechecking this month's spreadsheets. There were a couple of discrepancies, and now they're throwing everything off."

Over my cellphone screen, I could hear Quil's fingers moving rapidly and digging hard into the gaming system's controller, while music blasted loudly in the background. I lowered the cell phone's volume because I was in my parents' office, while Dad took some clients hiking, and Mom napped on the couch a few feet away. The window behind me ushered in the muted Forks sunshine, enough light so that I could work without being too bright to disturb Mom's slumber.

A couple of minutes later, I noticed that the latest song Quil played in the background had a rhythmic beat which while powerful, wasn't necessarily overpowering or distracting. Though I was no expert on music and admittedly hadn't listened to much beyond the radio's Top 30 for the past couple of years, the piece had a balanced cadence, a pleasing symphonic melding of instruments that struck just the right chord – literally. It made me smile, and for those few minutes, while the melody played, I worked in peace, glancing at Mom periodically to make sure she was okay. And I completely forgot that Quil was still on my phone screen.

"Take that, motherfucker!"

The abruptly shouted curse startled me and made my breath hitch. When I glanced over at Mom, she shifted, turning over on the couch.

"Fuck," I spat quietly, sucking my teeth. "Quil, can you not yell so loud? My mom is sleeping." I lowered the cell phone's volume yet again even though it had the unfortunate side effect of making the song in the background lower.

"Oh my God, Bella, tell me you saw that!"

"What now?" I sighed.

Quil exhaled heavily. "Bella, what are you doing that you're not watching me play?"

"I'm doublechecking my parents' spreadsheets," I hissed. "And it's not wasting time, and if you'd listen while I spoke, you would've heard me say that the spreadsheets are off."

Something crashed over the phone screen; it sounded like a controller being flung against a wall. The sweet-sounding tune ended.

"No point in the musical accompaniment now," Quil muttered. "I just got killed, Bella!"

I clenched my jaw, trying to simultaneously control my patience and focus on the numbers on the laptop.

"Maybe we should hang up, Quil. This is important, and I've got to focus."

"That game was important too! And I don't want to hang up. I'm bored. Jake and I were supposed to hang out, and instead, he's off somewhere with Leah."

I hovered the mouse over the next number so I wouldn't lose my place.

"If you're bored, why don't you work on your resume?" I said distractedly. "You said you were going to fix it up so you could start looking for something else besides assisting at Newton's Sporting Goods. Remember?"

"Yeah, yeah." I heard him groan and then yawn as if he were stretching.

"Quil, we've been out of college for almost a year now."

"Why don't you look at it for me, Bell? You were the Lit major."

"Quil," I sighed, moving on to the next number, "I don't have time right now."

"Well, not right now. How about if I take it on the cruise-"

Here, I looked away from the screen and glared at the phone. Quil wasn't a bad-looking guy; he had smooth dark skin and jet black hair and eyes so dark that the white surrounding them stood out dramatically. He was pretty much of average height and average build as well. Nothing physically about him other than the whites of his eyes was necessarily striking…but nothing was necessarily bad either. Back in college, he'd been of average academic intelligence as well; not necessarily a failure but not someone you'd want on your group project as well.

But he'd always had a knack for making everyone in school laugh – the clown of the group. He'd been…fun, I suppose, if mindless fun was one's idea of fun. He was still considered 'fun' by some of our friends…but not so much by others since we'd left school.

Or so much by me lately.

And he was still average everywhere else.

"Are you kidding me? Is this one of your jokes? Because not only have I begrudgingly promised my parents to do nothing but relax on that cruise and not think about work or…" I shook my head, seeing no point in continuing in that vein with him, "but I'm also leaving them shorthanded while I'm away. What's more, I paid a lot of money to go on that cruise. And you expect me to work on **your** resume?"

"All right, all right, chill with the sermon!" Quil laughed. "I was…joking. 'Course I was."

"And thank you, by the way," I continued sardonically, "for offering to help **me** since you were the Accounting major."

"Bella, I work as an assistant at Newton's because I don't plan to ever look at that many numbers again," he chuckled.

"Sounds like an amazing life plan," I muttered.

He kept right on chuckling. "Something else 'll come my way soon enough. I'm not worried."

"I can tell you're not. Opportunity is just going to come knocking on your door, huh?"

"Yep," he grinned.

"Yep," I nodded sarcastically and returned my attention to the laptop screen. "Damn it; now, I lost my place."

Again, Quil chuckled. He began humming the Jeopardy tune. "Come on, Bella, quick! Find your place! Quick, quick!" Then, he started shouting out random numbers, confusing me further.

"That's it, Quil. I'm hanging up."

He roared with laughter. "I was just playing with you, baby. Come on. Don't be that way. Where's your sense of humor lately?"

"Bye, Quil." I ended the call.

A half-hour later, I'd found the problem and fixed it. With a satisfied sigh, I shut the laptop. When I glanced at my mom, she'd woken, and her eyes were on me.

I grinned proudly. "I fixed it."

My mom smiled. "Aw, baby, thank you. I was trying to figure it out, but staring at all those numbers on the laptop screen was making me dizzy, and your dad had those clients waiting."

"Mom…maybe I shouldn't go on that cruise next month."

The smile withered off my mom's pretty face. "Bella, don't start."

"But what if something…"

She sat up slowly and carefully, patting the space next to her.

"Come here, Bella."

When I sat beside her, she opened the blanket she'd had around her and wrapped us both in it. Then, laying against the backrest, she pulled me with her so that my head rested on her shoulder, and her warm arms encircled my shoulders. For a few, wonderful minutes, we just sat there, in comfortable silence and relaxation while she stroked my hair, and I released successive sighs of contentment.

"Don't forget you made me a promise, Bella," she reminded me gently.

My eyes opened. "Mom, how am I supposed to relax?"

I felt her pull her head back, and I lifted my head off her shoulder so that I could look up. Other than for the circles rimming her eyes and the loss of her gorgeous hair, the chemo hadn't diminished her beauty. With the wide, red headband she wore, she looked almost like a starlet from Hollywood's golden era.

"You're supposed to relax because you're young and smart and beautiful and you deserve a break after four successful years of college and after all the help you've given your dad and me around here, and because," she took a deep breath and grinned, "because even though you're an extension of me, and I'm a part of you, we are not, in fact, the same person. Therefore, the limits of my health," she murmured quietly, tapping my nose with her forefinger, "shouldn't limit you."

"But Mom-"

"And I know that is easier said than done; trust me, I know. That's why I've asked you not to call home while you're away. If anything should come up that you need to know about, your dad and I will definitely contact you."

She shrugged, speaking in the easiest, conversational tone as if we were discussing something as benign as the possibility of another snafu in the spreadsheets. I swallowed hard, while my mom's vibrant blue eyes held mine. The chemo hadn't affected them either.

"So go," she smiled. "Be twenty-three. Party your ass off the way I did when I was twenty-three."

I smirked. "You were already married, and I was four when you were twenty-three."

"So what?" she chuckled. "I still partied, honey. Your dad and I would put you to bed, and we'd dance and drink the night away, sometimes with friends, and sometimes just the two of us. Or if we were hiking in the mountains, we'd tuck you safely and soundly into the tent, and then sit out by the fire and watch the stars, drinking wine for the rest of the evening."

"That sounds beautiful," I breathed.

"Either way, we'd always end the night in the _best possible way_."

When she wiggled her brows suggestively, I pretended to dry heave and looked away.

"Ugh, you had me envisioning all that right up to the very end."

Mom chuckled heartily. "Seriously, Bella. Don't spend your vacation envisioning your dad and me in any way, shape, or form; make your own memories. Island hop, explore, watch the sunrise and the sunset in the Caribbean."

All the while, I kept my gaze on the window and on the majestic view of the mountains beyond.

"Play all sorts of games," Mom continued. "Try new foods and exotic cocktails and get drunk off them. Have lots of sex-"

"Mom," I groaned, making her chuckle again.

"-but be careful," she added. "Don't be embarrassed to ask about a prospective partner's health history."

"Mom!" I choked, returning my eyes to her and feeling my face turn as scarlet as her headband regardless of how easily she'd always spoken to me about sex, "I'm not embarrassed to ask. Besides, I'm going with Quil, remember? I already know his health history."

"Mm," she hummed neutrally. "That's right. _Quil_. That was…an interesting exchange you two had a little while ago."

"Young lady," I set a hand on my hip and feigned indignation, "were you listening in on my conversation?"

"Sorry, Mom," she said, playing along, "but the boy was yelling pretty loudly about all the soldiers he was killing on screen."

"I know. I'm sorry, Mom." I offered her a rueful smile. "I asked him to keep it down."

"Don't apologize for him, honey. He's his own man…I think," she frowned, grinning at the same time.

I swallowed and again looked away. "He can be…a bit of a clown sometimes; I know."

"There's a thin line between being a clown and being a _buffoon_." She whispered the last word teasingly to take some of the sting off the criticism. "We all cross that line once in a while, but when we're constantly crossing it…how _is_ the sex, Bella?"

"Oh my God, Mom," I shrieked, chuckling. "What's all this interest in my sex life today?"

"What?" she snorted. "It's a question."

"It's a pretty invasive question."

"No, it's not. Not between you and me." She grinned impishly.

"Don't you dare," I hissed. "It's bad enough I've got to hear all sorts of sexual innuendos flying back and forth between you and Dad all the time. I know you have a healthy sex life; I don't need to know any more than that."

She laughed and laughed throughout my entire speech.

"So, how is it?" she persisted.

"Oh my God." I rolled my eyes, shrugging as I replied. "It's sex, Mom. Sex is sex, right?"

She jerked her head back and made a face. "Well, sex is sex, of course, but if you've had the right kind of sex, the best kind of sex, you're generally not so blasé about it. You want to shout about it off the rooftops," – she shouted dramatically – "have it everywhere and all the time," she laid back against the couch – "throw around sexual innuendos," – she flung her hands wildly and sat up again – "and hope that everyone around you, when they're mature enough and ready, of course," she added, quirking a brow, "has the same kind of sex."

I held my stomach from the force of my laughter. "You're horrible, Mom. And you missed your calling as an actress. Seriously though, I'm shocked I'm not mentally scarred here."

Renee Swan laughed, hugging me tightly once more. "You're a resilient young woman. Besides, my point is-"

"There was a point?"

"There _was_ a point, believe it or not," she confirmed with a sharp nod. "Generally speaking, it's usually more than just the sex that makes you respond that dramatically to someone. It's your dad who makes me scream dramatically more than the sex."

"Mom."

"More specifically, it's the memory of that first inkling of shared passion, when we just knew we were about to click, which keeps your dad and me so close and so in love. It's the fact that we refuse to allow that initial passion to dwindle. The great sex is simply a bonus byproduct of all that; a confirmation, if you will, of the rightness of _us_. It's like what your dad always says, 'When you know, you know."'

"Well, we can't all be that lucky to simply…know. Or to even find what you and Dad have, for that matter."

"Oh, I think we can," she said confidently. "I don't think your dad and I were so much lucky as we were…_both_ willing to be open to the possibilities. I think, if we keep our eyes open and don't limit ourselves to average conversation _and_ average sex due to current circumstances, we can all find something as passionate as what your dad and I have." She held my gaze meaningfully. "You're a passionate individual, Bella; there's no way you could escape it being the product of two individuals like your dad and me," she grinned. "Don't be afraid of the type of passion that makes you lose your mind. And that's all I'll say," she said, patting my leg, "before I start sounding like an old lady giving old lady advice."

"You could never sound old, Mom," I murmured. "You're my best friend, you know that? I wish I could bring you with me on all my adventures."

She cupped my cheek. "Go have your own adventure for _you_, Bella. And then afterward, you can tell me all about it."

OOOOO

**Day 6: Early Morning Hours – Off the Coast of San Juan, Puerto Rico, USA**

I remove my heels and run.

"Bella, wait, wait!" Edward calls out from behind me.

"Edward," I breathe, shaking my head as I sprint down the deck and head toward the elevator bank. "I can't wait. They kept us in that damn office for three damn hours," I grit through my teeth, "and I _need_ my phone."

"I know, but hold on. Hold on." He catches up and firmly yet carefully takes my hand, but like I said, we were in that office for three hours, and I ran out of patience before we even got there.

When I round on him, I find his hair disheveled, clothing wrinkled, and eyes dark and wary. And I know I look no better.

"Stop it! Let go!"

"You're going the wrong way, my love. If we take those elevators, we'll have to get off on the Atrium deck," he explains carefully, weaving his fingers through mine, "and walk all the way to the bow of the ship to catch the elevator bank up to our suite. But if we cut through mid-ship-"

"Then let's cut through mid-ship," I say impatiently, already sprinting back the other way.

The fucking cruise ship has never felt so overwhelmingly cavernous. We snake our way up and down decks, up random staircases, bypassing late partiers and early risers on our way until we reach the correct elevator bank. I pound on the call button then furiously slam on it again five seconds later.

"It's five in the damn morning. Where the hell are all the elevators?"

When one finally dings, announcing its arrival, Edward pulls me swiftly toward it. It's five in the morning, therefore the elevator is thankfully empty, but it feels like it's crawling up each deck with the speed of a turtle.

Edward pulls me against his chest, his arms winding around my waist while my hands instinctively rest on his chest. He's warm and hard yet yielding, and his thumbs stroke my hips…but panic stiffens me, making it impossible for me to melt into him and acknowledge the comfort and reassurance I know he's attempting to provide. My eyes remain trained on the changing elevator numbers over his shoulder.

"Bella, I'm so sorry." Remorse is thick in his voice. "I'm sorry I forgot the phone in the room…and I'm sorry I kept at it with Quil. I should've just shut-"

"It wasn't your job to remember my phone, Edward. That was always my responsibility, not yours."

I feel him tense. His thumbs cease their stroking. He exhales as though I've dug my palms deep against his chest and forced the wind out of him. Yet other than for that, he makes no reply.

"But yes, Quil is a goddamn prick, an immature child. Coming on this cruise with him was my fucking mistake, and he was already getting kicked off the ship." My eyes flash up to his, and they're as mournfully contrite as was his voice. "_You_ should've dropped it."

I can't suppress the accusatory tone in my voice, though a part of me knows I'm being completely unfair – at least in regards to this. But it's now_ three hours later, _and at least five hours since I last checked my phone.

As our gazes remain locked, there's more I could say and ask, but I have only one priority now; everything else between Edward and me has to wait for afterward, for after I retrieve my phone and confirm that my heart is racing and my temples throbbing for no reason.

When the elevator finally pings on our floor, I disentangle myself from Edward's arms, and as soon as the doors open, I fly out without waiting for him. Over the past six days and five nights, I've learned my way around here, at least. Nonetheless, he's right on my heels, and I can practically feel him holding back from reaching for me.

As soon as we round the corner to the correct hallway, I break into a run, my heart beating against my ribcage. Swiping the key card, I push the door open.

"It should be on the dresser," Edward says quickly behind me, and then adds with even more urgency, "Bella, love, whatever happens, please remember I'm here with you."

"It's nothing. Nothing's going to happen," I snap, shaking my head wildly as I spot the phone. "I'm just being…"

Even as I reach for it, I chide myself for being stupidly irrational. There have been no calls since I left home days ago, for days on end; days spent in ports like St. Thomas and it's beautiful beaches; sea days with perpetually lapping waters; on the gorgeous yacht – which was likely Edward's yacht – in St. Maarten; while playing Trivia games and pool games and ping-pong games. Not one single call during all those long, distracting hours Edward and I spent making love on his bed, in his jacuzzi, on my bed, in the shower, on the floor, up against the wall…

_Why_ would there be a call now? In what cruel and twisted world would an urgent call come through precisely on the night when I was stupid and distracted enough to forget my phone, and Edward ended up holding it, then ended up forgetting it in the room? Precisely on the night when Edward wouldn't just let it fucking go and got into a pissing fight with Quil, not only almost getting us all kicked off the ship but keeping us in Security Bay for three fucking hours explaining ourselves – all while I had no phone?

Therefore, as I flip the phone over, a relieved smile pulls at my lips. Because I'm being ridiculous; I know I am. I was overwhelmed by the scene a few hours earlier, by the discovery that Edward has been keeping things from me, and the anxiety of it all manifested itself in illogical panic. Everything is _just fine_ back home, and once I confirm it, Edward and I can have a long discussion.

Except that when the screen wakes up, it reads, 'Four missed calls,' and they're all my dad's cell phone number.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

**Almost done. "See" you soon!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**Here's a Saturday morning update for you all to read while you're on around-the-corner lines at the supermarket or at Costco today trying to get water and toilet paper. Good luck, all, and STAY SAFE AND HEALTHY.**

**We're almost done. :)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well**.

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**Seven Nights – Chapter 16**

**DAY 6 – Early Dawn – Off the Coast of San Juan, Puerto Rico, USA**

"She had chest pains. By the time I got her to the hospital, she couldn't breathe."

I clamp a hand over my mouth and double over to the keep down the mixture of bile and near-hysteria threatening to choke me. When I feel a hand on my shoulder, it's warm and comforting…but it's also far away.

I can't focus on that right now.

"Dad, is Mom okay?"

The moment that transpires before my dad replies is the longest moment I've ever experienced.

"Dr. Gerandy has her in ICU. They think it might be her heart."

"But she doesn't have heart problems. She's a healthy forty-two years old woman; at least, she was super-healthy until-"

"Dr. Gerandy said something about the chemo and her heart."

"What exactly did Dr. Gerandy say, Dad?"

"I don't know. I don't remember, Bella." His voice quivers. "I was just…I was just so…"

"It's okay, Dad. Is Dr. Gerandy there? Can I speak to him?"

My dad's sigh is that of a man carrying the weight of the world. "He was here a while ago, but I'm not sure where he is right now. He might be in with your mom. I haven't been allowed in with her yet."

"What? Why not?"

"They've been running some tests I…I don't know. I don't know what's going on, Bells."

When I picture my dad in the Forks' Hospital waiting room, bewildered, unable to even see his wife, and likely pulling out his hair from its roots, my heart aches almost as much for him as it does for my mom.

"Dad, who's there with you?"

"I didn't want to bother anyone, Bella. It was late. I didn't even want to bother you, sweetheart, but when you left for your cruise, Mom made me promise that if something happened I'd call you because she promised you, and she didn't want that promise broken."

Despite how I'm struggling to remain calm, when I pinch my eyes shut, it wrings a tear from each eye. In the ensuing silence, the warm hand stroking the nape of my neck exerts gentle pressure.

I draw in a deep breath and straighten. "All right. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Honey, I don't want you rushing over here and possibly getting hurt yourself in the process."

"Dad, I'll be fine. Don't start worrying about me now. I'll be there before the end of the day. I promise."

He's quiet.

"Dad?"

When he replies, his voice breaks and the attempt he makes at masking it by clearing his throat makes my chest constrict.

"Okay, Bells. Okay. Be careful, all right? Are you coming back with Quil?"

"No, Dad. I'm coming back by myself."

The hand on my nape stiffens for a fraction of a second, then resumes its tender stroking. My dad pauses yet again, but I suppose he decides now isn't the time to ask about Quil.

"All right, honey."

I end the call and head straight for the cabin door.

"I've got to go."

"Bella, wait, and I'll come with you."

"I can't wait, Edward. I have no time to wait. This is urgent."

Yanking the door open, I cut a fast track for the elevators, while Edward's long legs easily keep pace beside me.

"My mom has been in the hospital for hours, my dad has been all alone and for some fucking reason, he hasn't been allowed to see her. You have no idea what that's probably doing to him. And I missed my chance to speak with her oncologist, who's God knows where now."

I fist my hair, and when he reaches for me, threading his fingers through mine and spinning me toward him, I expel an impatient growl.

"Hold on."

"What part of 'this is urgent' don't you get?"

"I get it's urgent," he fires back. "I'm just telling you to hold on so that we can figure out our game plan before-"

Shaking off his hand, I resume my quick stride. "I don't need a fucking game plan. I just need to get off this ship and get home as soon as possible."

"I know that, Bella, which is why I want to help-"

All the crushing fear and agitated frustration and confusion and anxiety and dread…they all come crashing down on me, and even as I round on Edward, even as the first bitter words cross my mouth, I know they're untrue and unfair; I know I'm shifting the weight of my failure onto his shoulders so that I won't crumble under the weight of it.

Yet, I can't stop myself.

"I don't want your goddamn help! It's your goddamn fault I didn't have my phone on me! It's your goddamn fault I'm just finding out now that my mom's been in the hospital for hours! It's your goddamn fault I didn't get to speak with her or with the oncologist and that my dad's been dealing with this all alone for hours! This is all your fault! You just had to have the last fucking word with Quil, didn't you? And it's my fucking fault too," I choke, "for getting involved with you in the first place. So just leave me alone, Edward!"

All the while, Edward stands there with his chest heaving, startled sea-green eyes growing wider with each successive accusation flung at him…yet allowing my venom to spew freely.

"I've got to go," I say, too bewildered to deal with him too.

I resume my lightning stride, and he follows. When we reach the elevators, he's the one to hit the call button. When the elevator arrives, he holds the doors open and jumps in with me.

"Do you even know where you're headed, Bella?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, temples pounding as I try to figure out my next move; my _first_ move.

"I've got to get off this ship. That's all I know right now."

The heated intensity of his gaze seeps through my shuttered lids. "You don't have shoes on."

My eyes pop open. "I don't give a damn about shoes."

He exhales. "Bella, go to your room, get your things together, and I'll head to Guest Services and-"

"You just don't get it, do you?" I snort, shaking my head. "This _game_ as you just called it-"

"I didn't call it a game," he retorts in a hiss while I wiggle a finger tightly between us.

"It's over, Edward. I don't have time for this anymore."

His angular jaw squares into a steely, rigid mass as he turns and bangs his palm hard over the '**Floor 5 – Guest Services'** button. While the elevator descends, I crush myself against a back corner, and Edward stands stiffly mid-elevator, facing the doors.

"It was never a game."

"Let's be honest, it was a game for both of us, Edward – for the celebrity music producer who got his kicks sailing around the Caribbean with a stupid girl-"

"Bella, no."

"-who had no fucking clue who he was-"

"Bella-"

"-and for me, who allowed herself a distraction from the real world."

He shakes his head and snorts, turning to face me midway through my bitter rant.

"No. No, Bella. I know I should've said it earlier, I know my timing couldn't be shittier-"

"Oh yeah, it _could_ be shittier!" The shouted words reverberate throughout our enclosed surroundings. "How about trying to say it while I'm down on my knees in front of you and giving you a bj?"

Edward's sun-kissed face pales, while his head jerks back as if I've struck him. The elevator pings, and the doors open, yet Edward just stands there staring at me, his feet seemingly melded to the elevator's glass floor. My eyes remain locked on his, nausea rolling in my stomach. In my periphery, I vaguely note a couple waiting to walk into the elevator.

"Uhm, excuse us, but may we…"

"That was a mistake, Bella. I shouldn't have-"

"Yeah, I know it was, Edward." I offer him a wry grin. "It's a common mistake in the heat of passion, to confuse lust for love and blurt out a few misplaced words you never meant."

The couple waiting for the elevator gasps.

"Is that what you think it was?" Edward whispers intently. "Just lust?"

I snort. "Don't pretend it was more than that. We both knew all along it was just a week-long, ship-board hook-up. You _never_ promised me anything more, and I _never_ asked for more."

When I shove past him and out of the elevator, the middle-aged couple dressed in matching Bermuda shorts and cruise tee-shirts part ways for me, both taking me in through matching rounded eyes and hanging mouths.

"Bella, wait! Wait!"

Meager bands of mauve sunlight filter through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows on the fifth-floor atrium. Beyond the hint of dawn, the bright lights of the next island in the ship's itinerary twinkle in the background. They've been visible since late last night when the ship pulled close to the Puerto Rican coast and then just…hovered.

A few more passengers now wander the ship, searching for an open bar serving morning Bloody Mary's or mimosas to go with the breakfast buffets that'll soon open. They stroll lazily, daily planners in hand as they configure their island day and their excursions. Since I'm the only one not currently strolling lazily, a few of them eye me with open curiosity.

Edward reaches for me yet again, the tips of his fingers brushing against the tips of mine, and for one moment, I want nothing more than to tangle our fingers and hands together, to grab onto him tightly and just…let myself believe that these past five great nights really were more than just five great nights.

"Let go of me!"

Edward lifts his hands, palms out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He pushes a hand through his scalp and fists his hair hard. "I did this so wrong."

"I have to go, Edward."

"I know," he breathes raggedly. "I know, and I won't keep you, but in case it means anything in the future…just know that it was never, _never_ just sex for me."

The moment stretches out into eternity while Edward's piercing, sea-green gaze holds mine, and every moment we've spent together throughout the past five days and nights flickers through my mind – every sunrise and sunset in his arms, every shoreline stroll and fascinating conversation, every trivia game loss and win and the laughs in between, every moment poolside with his friends, with Alice and Jasper…and every private brush of his mouth and touch of his hands…

And at the same time, I know that moment is my last chance to reach out for him, my final opportunity to lift myself on my toes, wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, crush my mouth to his warm mouth, allow him to pull me close against his chest, and cocoon me in his warmth and tell me it was more than-

"Goodbye, Edward."

My head spins with the words.

"Goodbye, Bella," Edward says. "Take care of yourself."

"You too."

OOOOO

Unfortunately, when I arrive at Guest Services, there are two passengers on line in front of me. I wait my turn, tapping my foot against the marble floor, pressing my lips together to keep from releasing the screams bubbling at my throat.

My eyes wander aimlessly, not entirely sure what…or who I think they'll spot, who'll still be hovering around. But other than for the few early risers, this deck is pretty empty.

However, just a few short yards away is the ship's Photography desk. Thousands upon thousands of both candid and posed pictures taken by the shipboard photographers are neatly arranged on lined stacks that resemble library book stacks. Rows upon rows of pictures wait to be perused and hopefully purchased by wandering guests at leisure.

A picture of a couple, mid-row on the front stack catches my eye. The woman wears a flesh-toned, A-line, midi-length dress that was once described by a dress salesman as boring and unimaginative…but the man in the picture openly admires it. He, in turn, wears a dark blue, custom-tailored suit that fit him sublimely – a suit that wouldn't have looked out of place at an awards show. The couple in the picture were caught unaware, candidly and happily running through one of the ship's many decks hand in hand, grinning at one another as if they'd just hit the jackpot at the shipboard casino, gazes locked as if they'd known one another for years instead of days, and both wearing expressions of pure anticipation…of shared passion…of two people who knew they were about to click and were completely open to the possibilities-

I snap my eyes away before the sharp sting in them leads to more.

When it's finally my turn, the young mid-twenties-ish woman behind the guest services desk signals for me to approach. She wears a tag that reads "Siobhan - Dublin, Ireland.' Unlike the white polo and navy Bermuda shorts uniform of Brit Jessica and the rest of the entertainment staff, the Guest Services staff is attired more formally in navy slacks, crisp white button-downs, and navy blazers. Siobhan's bright red hair and green eyes-

Green eyes…

-contrast beautifully with her uniform.

"Good morning, Miss, howsagoing?" Siobhan asks with a friendly smile and a thick, Irish accent.

"Hi, good morning." I lay my hands flat on the desk. "I need to get off of the ship as soon as possible."

"Yes," Siobhan says, smile still in place. "Of course. Everyone is anxious to go into port later this morning, aren't they? Puerto Rico is a bang-on island, and it's our last stop before the ship returns to the port of Miami tomorrow morning. I'm sure you'll have a whale of a time. However, the Excursions desk," she flourishes an arm toward another empty desk a few feet away, "doesn't open until six-forty-five a.m., and-"

"No. I mean I have to get off the ship right now." I bounce my right forefinger off the desk.

"Oh." Her smile tightens slightly. "Well, the ship won't dock in San Juan for three hours yet, and as I said, the Excursions desk will open at-"

"_Why_ haven't we docked yet?" When my voice rises, Siobhan's smile completely evaporates. "We've been hugging the island's coastline since late last night. I saw the lights then from my boy- from my balcony, and I see them now?" I wave wildly toward the ship's windows.

"Well, we're not scheduled to dock in San Juan until eight-"

"But I _have_ to get off-" I grip my hair in both hands and fist it hard, knowing I'm not explaining myself properly. By now, Siobhan's bright green eyes appear somewhat alarmed, and she warily examines her surroundings as if she's afraid more like me might be looming around.

"Look, Siobhan, I just received an urgent call from my dad in Washington State telling me that my mom is very sick." My voice breaks. "I have to get home as soon as possible."

"Oh," she breathes. The shoulders that had stiffened now loosen while the wariness in her expression is replaced with sympathy. "I'm sorry, Miss. Well, as I said, we'll dock at the port of San Juan in about three hours, at which point you may certainly elect to end your cruise and your stay with us with no repercussions. There's a major airport in San Juan, and while I'm not sure whether they have direct flights into Washington State, I'm sure you'd be able to catch a connecting flight to the mainland U.S. I can help you look up flights if you'd like," she volunteers eagerly.

"No. No, Siobhan, I can't wait three hours for the ship to dock. My dad's been by himself at the hospital for hours, I have to speak with the oncologist, and my mom…I don't even know if my mom will…"

When I choke back a sob, Siobhan watches me sympathetically.

"I'm so sorry, Miss, truly," she murmurs. "I wish there was more I could do, but the ship simply doesn't have permission to dock until eight a.m. As I said, in the meantime, I'd be happy to help you look up flights-"

"No! I need to get off this ship now!"

"Is there a problem?"

One of the other guest services attendants approaches, this woman tall and lean and in about her mid-thirties with a tag that reads ' Zafrina – Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.'

Siobhan turns toward her and speaks in low murmurs, explaining the situation. Then, Zafrina turns to me.

"I'm sorry, Miss, but Siobhan is correct; we're not set to land in San Juan for three hours yet. But we can pull up flight schedules for you on our laptops-"

I rest my elbows on the counter and cradle my head, pulling my hair.

"Is there _no way_ to get me on the island sooner? I'll pay money. Look, I know three hours sound insignificant, but they can make all the difference."

"Miss, it has nothing to do with money, I promise you. But only the ship's captain may make the request and determination to disembark someone off a ship while we're still officially at sea. What's more, the entire process usually involves calling the coast guard, and it's usually only done when someone on the ship is sick and needs to be transported urgently, not when- Excuse me."

The phone rings, and as Zafrina promptly answers it, my brain feels as if it might implode. Meanwhile, Zafrina shifts her eyes away from me and straightens as if a ruler has been shoved up her back.

"Oh. Good morning, Captain. I see. Oh, yes, yes, right here and- Oh, yes, sir." Her eyes sweep back to me before she turns her back and murmurs quietly into the phone. "Yes. Yes, sir. Very well. Right away, I understand. Very well. Thank you."

Hanging up, she clears her throat and her fingers begin flying over her laptop.

"All right, Miss Swan, let's work quickly then. Please give me all your relevant information so that I may contact the U.S. Coast Guard serving Puerto Rico and have them send a speedboat to collect you. In the meantime, Siobhan will contact the port and inform them that we have an emergency and that we'll be sending one of our passengers down shortly. She'll arrange the best possible flight for you as well. And Senna here" – she snaps her fingers, and another guest services attendant suddenly appears – "will accompany you to your cabin to lend you assistance in packing your belongings." She looks up and offers me a compassionate smile. "Don't worry, Miss Swan; we'll have you on your way home as soon as humanly possible."

"Thank you," I say, my voice thick. "Thank you."

"No problem, Miss Swan."

In the hectic yet ordered frenzy that follows, it's not until a half-hour later, while I'm in the cab that was already waiting at the port, racing toward San Juan International Airport to catch the flight that's miraculously waiting for me at the tarmac, and distractedly watching the island palm trees sway back and forth on an island I wasn't able to explore, that I realize I hadn't yet given Zafrina my name the first few times she called me, _'Miss Swan.'_

"Edward," I breathe.

And then I hang my head and break into chest-racking sobs.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Almost done. **

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

"**See" you soon.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts. I haven't had a chance to get back to all, but as the world goes kinda crazy, my fingers like to write to relieve the stress. I promise I'll get back to you all shortly. :)**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.**

**We're ALMOST done here.**

* * *

**Seven Nights – Chapter 17**

**On What Would've Been Day Seven of the Cruise…**

It's a typical sunny day at sea. The heavens are a gauzy blend of ivory and azure with the golden sun sitting like a crown and its shimmering rays the sparkling jewels that trim it. The band plays poolside, a steel drum calypso rhythm that's soft and soothing. It briefly reminds me of another time…of another cruise…of a first dance…of another song that I never did hear.

As I lay on the deck chair sunning myself and shut my eyes, I can almost hear the waters lapping against the ship's hull. It melds with the music and with the happy conversations and drunk laughter occurring around me. As I begin to drift, it all becomes a background chorus.

"Hi, Bella."

When my eyes pop open, the glare of the sun eclipses the figure standing before me, shadowing him in a blinding glow. Nonetheless, even if it wasn't for the tall, broad-shouldered, lean-muscled, and trim silhouette, I'd recognize that voice anywhere. I hear it in my dreams pretty often. And the way my heart hammers…it hasn't hammered that way since.

Still, it's hard to believe; it's too much of a coincidence that he'd be here. Besides, I've always been of a cynic nature, a doubter, a questioner. It's why…why I sabotaged us in the first place: It was just _too_ good to be true that I'd meet someone and we'd just…click – as my mom once phrased it.

And so is this.

So, even as I lift myself on one elbow and remove my shades…his shades – the ones I 'borrowed' from him once and never returned, I'm already half-convinced it's not him, that it's someone else who sounds like him and whose profile resembles his profile.

Except that when the shades come off…and he steps out of the sun's shadow…and my eyes instantly meet his…well, no one could ever have those same sea-green eyes, eyes like the sea glass we once found together.

"Edward," I breathe.

He grins, a grin that starts out softly then grows in intensity as if he's relieved I remember him. As if I could've ever forgotten him.

"How are you? How have you been? It's been…" His voice is steady, yet I think I detect an undertone of anxiousness, and when he chuckles self-consciously and rakes a hand through his natural, copper highlights, I know his heart is hammering as well. He gestures toward the foot of my deck chair. "May I?"

I nod eagerly and quickly sit up, making room for him to sit. "Yes, of course."

He sits, and for a long moment, we simply hold one another's gaze. In my periphery, I vaguely note that he looks as great as he did the last time we saw one another.

"How've you been, Bella?" he asks again. "You look great."

"I've been…okay, and you look amazing too. How have you been? I see your face all over the place- I mean," I chuckle, "your music."

His responding chuckle is sheepish, and he drops his gaze to the meager space between us, his dark eyelashes kissed by the sun's rays.

"I've been okay as well. Busy for the past three years."

"Yeah, me too," I say quietly, though I don't expand.

He lifts his eyes back to me, and my breath hitches because the green in them swirls with all the longing I remember openly displayed…with the passion I've missed in my life.

"Three years," I murmur. "Isn't that how long Jasper once said it took for him and Alice to get back together?"

Edward swallows thickly and nods.

"Edward, I'm Jasper in this. I made a mistake," I whisper urgently, unwilling to waste my second chance. All the while, on the tight deck chair space between us, my hand slowly crawls toward his, toward the hand with which he grips the chair. "I'm sorry for everything I said that day. I didn't mean any of it."

"Bella-"

"It was my fear for my mom, and it was so unfair to you, and I've wanted to reach out to you and thank you for helping to get me off that ship."

"Bella, I-"

My hand hovers and then covers his. I squeeze it hard. "And even worse than all that, I left you thinking it had just been sex, but it was more. It was everything, Edward. And I've missed you so much."

"Bella, please-"

I flip his hand over and thread my fingers through his. "Just tell me you forgive me. Tell me you'll be my Alice and forgive me three years later for being so stupid. Tell me that like Alice and Jasper, we can give things another go between us."

"Bella…" He offers me a tender smile, squeezing my fingers in return, and my heart leaps with hope. "Of course, I forgive you. Of course, I know you didn't mean any of that. I know you were just scared for your mom."

I expel a long breath of relief, and my hold on his hand tightens. But the relief only lasts for a few moments. In my periphery, I see someone approaching, heading toward us with purpose, and her silhouette is much softer and curvier than was Edward's.

Edward pulls his hand out of mine. "But…I'm engaged, Bella."

Bile rises to my throat. In my periphery, the curvy figure moves closer.

"Break up with her, Edward. End the engagement. It's what Alice did, remember? As soon as she and Jasper bumped into one another three years later, she called Thurgood and-"

"Bella, I'm not Alice, and you're not Jasper."

My heart drops to my feet, and all air leaves my lungs.

"Please, Edward," I plead shakily.

He shakes his head. "I can't, Bella. You couldn't believe in us then. I can't believe in us now."

The silent torrent of tears that ensue blurs his image, and I swipe them away furiously because if this is the last time I'll see him, I don't want any obstructions.

"Can I at least hear my song?"

His brow furrows. "What?"

"The song you made for me. I never got to hear it."

Understanding flickers behind his green eyes. "Oh," he nods then shakes his head. "I'm afraid that song doesn't exist anymore. I changed it around a bit and…well…"

And as the woman in the background reaches us, she rests a hand on Edward's shoulder. The diamond on her finger catches the sunlight and explodes in a prism of color, thankfully blinding me once again.

"I'm sorry, Edward," I cry quietly. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…I'm sorry…"

"Bella?"

"I'm sorry."

"Bella, honey, what is it?"

"I'm sorry."

"Bella, wake up!"

I wake with a start and a gasp. My eyes instantly land on my mom, and then I look around in confusion, wondering how she got on the cruise ship, and why this cabin is set up so strangely.

And wondering where _he_ is.

In the next moment, it all comes rushing back.

I rushed off of the cruise ship…and away from _him_ two days and one night ago. Today would've been Day Seven of the cruise, the last day…our last day…

Or would it have been our last day?

"Bella?" When I sweep my eyes back to my mom, lines of concern crease her brow, and my guilt grows exponentially.

"I'm so sorry, Mom," I say. Pulling the recliner chair closer to the hospital bed, I smile and gently take her hand, the one without the IV. "I had a nightmare."

"Oh, baby." She offers me a wistful smile. "I could tell." She picks up our joined hands and wipes off a tear from my cheek. "Looks like it was a bad one. I hope you weren't still worrying about me."

"No, Mom." Drawing in a deep breath, I shake my head and offer her a smile in return. "Doctor Gerandy assured us it was a bad reaction to the chemo, and he's going to adjust your dosage, and you'll come home, and…we'll take it from there."

"Good girl," she says, cupping my cheek. "We'll take it from there, one day at a time just as we've been doing."

We both draw in a deep breath and release it through narrowed lips, the way she's taught me to calm myself since I was a kid.

"Better?"

"Yes," I say.

"Good," she smiled. "Now, tell me about this nightmare."

I swallow hard and look away from her. For a while, we're both quiet.

"How about you tell me how your cruise went then; at least until I interrupted it."

"Mom," I smirk, and she chuckles quietly. "It was good. It was _very_ good."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Did you clear your head?"

"More or less."

"Distract yourself?"

I pause. "Yes."

My mom holds my gaze. "Did Quil have a good time?"

"Quil and I broke up Mom, on the first full day of the cruise. He got drunk and groped me in public."

"What a fucking dick." Mom shakes her head and scowls. "I hope you did something about it."

"I shoved him and called him a 'Dick,'" I smile.

"Mm," she says. "He deserved to have his balls crushed, but at least he's out of the picture. Bella, it was so hard to keep my opinion of Quil to myself."

I chuckle softly. "I don't know that you did a very good job of it, but…thanks for allowing me to really see it on my own."

"Like I said, it wasn't easy," she grins.

"I'm done with Leah and Jake as well."

"Oh my God, this just gets better and better! Oof!" She pretends to wipe off her brow, and I laugh despite myself. "Now. Back to this nightmare…"

I draw in a deep breath and exhale it in a long gust.

"It wasn't about them, was it?" It's more statement than a question. "Or about me," she adds slowly. "So…"

"Mom," I murmur, "I…I met a wonderful guy, and we hit it off instantly, just like you did with Dad. And we had a great time together. We hung out by the pool with his friends, who were great, for the most part. We went to the beach and snorkeled together, and danced at the shipboard clubs together. We explored together, played trivia and laughed when we lost. We played all sorts of cruise games. We talked for hours and hours…and we had so much sex," I blurt. "Great sex. The best kind of sex."

My mom shuts her eyes and presses her head against her pillow, chuckling heartily.

"You should've seen him, Mom. I mean, I know you're not supposed to objectify a person, and he was much more than a pretty face on a great body, but damn." I shake my head.

All the while, my mom's chuckles grow louder. "Oh, my God, this is too good. Sounds like a great time, indeed."

"And don't worry; I was careful."

"Good." She lifts her head and hits the lever on the bed which slowly brings her up into a more upright position.

I hover nervously. "Do you need help. Can I-"

"I've got it, honey," she says breezily. "There we go. But I've got to sit up for the rest of _this_."

"Mom," I sigh, taking in her playful spirits, "I'm so relieved. I was so scared…"

"I know you were, my love, but I promise you, I do feel much better. Now, I just wish I wouldn't have interrupted what sounds like a hell of a cruise!" She fans herself.

"Stop," I laugh.

"But I did promise you we'd call if anything came up, and as much as I can, Bella, I will always keep my promises to you."

"Thank you, Mom," I say fiercely, "and anyway, the cruise started out well, but it didn't end that way."

She holds me locked in her eyes, and I draw in a deep breath as the entire story pours out in bits and pieces, amid strangled whispers and choked back sobs. I fill in the details of our first night – when Edward wouldn't sleep with me because I had a boyfriend…and of our last night – when even after everything I did and said, he pulled strings to get me off the ship as soon as possible. By the time I'm done, I'm crying again and sitting carefully on the bed beside my mom while she comfortingly runs her fingers through my hair.

"I panicked, Mom. I thought it was my fault for not being here, for being off on a cruise-"

"It wasn't your fault, honey."

"I know that, Mom," I reassure her. "Now that I can think more clearly, I know that. But…but I lashed out at him and blamed him instead. And then as if that wasn't enough," I snort, "I told him everything between us had just been sex and a distraction. You should've seen his face as I hurled all that poison at him." I flinch as I recall it.

"It was more than that, though, wasn't it?" Mom asks softly.

"It was so much more.

For a long while, my mom and I are silent. Eventually, she draws in a deep breath and sighs.

"Bella, honey, this is exactly what I feared would happen when I got sick and you and your dad started taking care of me."

"You feared I'd meet the perfect guy on a cruise, and I'd fuck it up royally in a matter of seven nights? Excuse me, not even seven nights. Tonight would've been seven nights."

"No," she snorts. "Not that exactly. I was worried that in your laser focus to help manage my quality of life, you'd lose sight of your own. Now, in your dad's case, having his life revolve around mine is fine. It's as it should be," she chuckles.

"Where is he anyway?" I ask. "He was just here."

"He's been here for over forty-eight hours straight. I told him to at least go get a sandwich and a cup of coffee at the cafeteria, and you should go get something to eat soon too. But Bella, my point is, my love-"

"There's a point?" I tease her.

"There's always a point. The point is you're a twenty-three-year-old young woman, and you have your own life to lead. That's why I insisted you go away, because you'd made your life all about me, and honey, that's not how it should be. This young man, what was his name?"

"Edward."

"You told me that. His _full_ name."

"Edward Masen."

"_Edward Masen_? Now, Bella, how did you not know who he was, honey? Even I've heard of Edward Masen – he's supposedly one of the hottest young producers right now, whose music is considered to be completely different from everything else that's out there."

I roll my eyes. "Mom, you know I just listen to whatever's on your basic radio stations. Anyway, you were getting to your point," I snap playfully.

She purses her lips. "Either way, no matter how things work out, Bella, you're the one who has to live with your choices, sweetheart, not me."

"I know," I agree quietly. "I know now."

She offers me a sympathetic smile. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"Now?" I fill my lungs and try to breathe through the constriction of knowing how far apart Edward and I are. "He's on a cruise, all the way at the other end of the country. And he lives all the way at the other end of the country."

"And?"

"And I'm here, Mom."

"What did we just agree, my love? That this is your life to lead for you, not for me."

"Mom-"

"Besides, you're getting way ahead of yourself. What are you going to do about the immediate issue between you and him, about the way you left things between one another?"

I look into my mom's deep blue eyes, always full of so much wisdom.

"I've got to apologize to him," I nod decisively. "That's the first thing I have to do. And maybe next week or so, if you're feeling better, I can take a flight to Miami?"

"Honestly, honey, I wouldn't even leave it for that long. I'd at least text him. You can't text from here, but as soon as you're in the cafeteria, I'd text him."

"Text him?" I chuckle. "Isn't that somewhat impersonal?"

"It's better than nothing, and it's a start, and as I always say-"

"We'll take it from there," I finish for her.

"Exactly."

I swallow thickly. "And what do I tell him?"

"Well, what about beginning with the complete truth?"

"What's the complete truth?"

"That's something only you know, Bella."

"Mom…Mom, what would I do without you to talk to?"

With the utmost care yet unable to hold back, I lean in and gently wrap my arms around my mom.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt-"

"Don't you dare apologize for hugging me," Mom hisses, pulling me in tightly. "These are the moments I live for."

We remain that way for a while, and I revel in the warmth and comfort of my mom's embrace until I hear a voice behind me.

"Ah, there are my two favorite women in the whole wide world."

I pull back as I watch the radiant smile that lights up my mom's face.

"And there's my favorite man in the whole wide world."

Dad approaches and he brushes his lips first against my mom's forehead then mine, taking the seat I vacated.

"Are you feeling better, Charlie, now that you got some food and coffee in you?"

"I actually am," my dad acknowledges. "What would I do without you to tell me what's good for me and what's not?" he teases.

"Funny, I just said something similar," I say.

"Well, I know something else that would be good for me-" my dad begins.

"I'm sorry, but I can't manage that just now, Charlie," Mom deadpans.

I pretend to dry heave while my dad laughs and laughs.

"That's not what I meant; I meant some shut-eye, but now that you mention it Renee baby, maybe if we can get Bella here to leave the room for a bit…"

"Oh my God, do you two ever stop?"

Charlie snickers. "Seriously, Bella, you do need to get down to the cafeteria."

"I'll go in a bit," I say. "I'm not too hungry yet. I ate a lot over the past few days."

"That's not all you did a lot of," Mom says.

"_Mom_," I hiss.

"Mm," Charlie grumbles, quirking a brow. "So, what were you two discussing up here while I was gone?"

"Girl talk," my mom replies vaguely, lifting her chin. "Nothing you need to worry about, darling."

"Nothing I need to worry about, huh? Wouldn't be about that little bastard, Quil, would it, because that _is_ something I need to worry about."

"Charlie, Bella tells me she took care of him, honey. You _don't_ need to worry about him."

"Hmph," my dad says, and for a moment, I'm reminded of Jasper. "Maybe not since…so, not about Quil. What _were_ you discussing then?"

"What's wrong, Dad? Are you jealous because I won't share my cruise adventure with you?" I tease.

"Trust me, Charlie," Mom grins. "You'd rather skip this particular adventure of Bella's; at least, parts of it."

"Would I now?" my dad smirks. He nods slowly, scraping his palm hard against his chin. His rich brown eyes, which I've been told all my life I inherited, flash curiously between my mom and me.

"Would this story, by any chance," he throws out there, "involve a young man about, oh, six feet two or so, with a mess of copper hair that looks like it's been pulled by its roots for the past forty-eight hours or so, and anxious green eyes that look like the world is about to implode for him if he doesn't speak with you soon?"

My mouth falls open. At the same time, my heart begins a furious hammering, hope and remorse and disbelief and so many emotions swirling inside me that I start shaking from the force of them all.

And all the while, Charlie grins impishly.

"Dad, what…how…?"

"I keep telling you, Bella, you need to get down to the cafeteria."

I brush my lips hastily against first my mom's cheek and then my dad's.

"Remember, Bella, the complete truth," Mom says in a rush as I run out.

"What complete truth?" Dad asks.

"Hush, Charlie!"

Behind me, I hear their combined musical laughter follow me.

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Almost done. :)**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

"**See" you tomorrow.**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**I also want to add thanks to those of you who've reviewed or messaged me to let me know what a distraction it's been to read this story, especially during these crazy times - and especially considering it's a story about a cruise! As I've mentioned, writing it has been a distraction for me, so I'm honored to know it's helped you guys out, even if it's in such a small way.**

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine.**

**Almost, almost, almost done. ;)**

* * *

**Seven Nights – Chapter 18**

**On What Would've Been Day Seven of the Cruise – Early Evening**

Sprinting out of Mom's hospital room, I run down the glaringly white hallways and toward the elevator bank. Euphoria incited by Edward's proximity lightens my steps and practically makes me fly. I'm so buoyant that when the elevator arrives, I float in and press the 'Lobby' button in one fluid motion – even though it's already pressed. There are people in here.

I eagerly face the doors as they shutter closed, prepped to jump out when they open. I grin to myself then laugh aloud when I recall Edward's and my elevator ride just a few days ago, the one we took back to his room on the first night we made love. My body physically vibrates at the memory. Despite my worries of the past couple of days, despite my lack of sleep, and despite my lack of nourishment, I'm fueled by adrenaline, alighted by the knowledge that Edward isn't all the way at the other side of the country but right here!

All the while, in my periphery, I note my fellow elevator passengers eyeing me. They think they're surreptitious with the way they carefully back up or step away from me. I suppose a hospital isn't the best place to laugh aloud by yourself, yet I go ahead and do it again. Let them think what they want; tonight, I'm going to be in Edward's arms once mo-

The first sliver of fear, of doubt, rolls up my spine just as the 'L' lights up on the elevator's digital display panel. When the elevator stops, and the doors slowly pry themselves open, I remain rooted to my spot. The passengers in front of me quickly exit without a glance back, while those behind me suck their teeth when they're forced to sidestep me, giving me a wide berth. As the final passenger crosses the elevator's threshold – a man with a cane and in about his mid-sixties – who vaguely reminds of Jasper, turns and looks at me.

"Hey, Missy, this particular elevator doesn't go any lower than the lobby. If you want to get to the basement-"

"No. No, I don't need the basement. Thanks."

He frowns and eyes me curiously for a moment. Then with a shrug and a careless wave, he turns and walks off.

For a handful of seconds, I'm frozen. It's not until the elevator doors threaten to close and lock me in, pull me further away from Edward once again that I finally react and jump out.

Still, I stand outside the elevator now, immobile because the last time Edward and I saw each other, I was pretty horrendous to him. What if he's not here to make up? What if he's here to…to return the clothes and items I left in his cabin? To give me a piece of his mind in person?

"Excuse me, Miss, do you need help?"

A young orderly stops and smiles much more pleasantly than did the man with the cane.

"Oh, no thanks."

He frowns curiously and continues on his way.

Next, I recall the conversation Edward, Alice, Jasper, and I shared just a couple of days earlier when Jasper relayed his and Alice's story to us. The first time Jasper messed up, he realized pretty quickly he'd made a mistake. Nonetheless, Alice walked away from him. Afterward, it took them three years to coincidentally, or even fatefully, run into one another again and _then_ make up.

Three damn years. I suppose it just wasn't their time, but still, three damn years…

"Excuse me, Miss, are you lost? Can I help?"

A doctor in her mid-fifties or so stops and offers me assistance.

"Oh, no thanks."

She tilts her head, eyeing me with some confusion before moving along.

Then, I recall the nightmare I had just a short while earlier, the one where three years later, Edward did forgive me, just as Alice forgave Jasper. And just as Alice had once been, in my dream, Edward was _engaged_. Yet, unlike Alice, Edward had no intention of breaking his engagement.

A shudder runs up my spine and makes me shiver.

"Fuck," I hiss and grip the hair at my crown, shutting my eyes and hanging my head against the nausea roiling in my stomach. "Get a grip, Bella. You just saw him forty-eight hours or so ago. When the hell between now and then would he have gotten _engaged_?"

Smiling ruefully at my own stupidity, I slowly force one foot forward, then the other.

"Excuse me, Miss, is there something wrong with your feet? Can I get you a wheelchair? Do you need-"

I sprint forward once more, following the signs and arrows leading to the 'Cafeteria,' turning corners around more white walls and past more men and women in scrubs and in regular clothing. My heart races. Fear and anxiety, whether rational or irrational, still make me tremble. Around the final bend, before the Cafeteria, the voices grow louder, the tinkling of conversation and silverware meld and carry as one in the air.

When I finally reach the Cafeteria entrance, my chest heaves. As I stand there and scan the room, visitors and patients alike talk and share meals and share a few minutes of respite from either a busy workday or from whatever brought them to a hospital. The mellow din of all the action creates a buzzing noise around the room.

Outside the cafeteria's large windows, rain falls over an evergreen landscape; its pitter-patter is silent against the glass, while Forks' ever-gray skies camouflage the cool, majestic mountains in the background. It's all a contrast to the Caribbean…yet in its own way, the beautifully warm Caribbean _is_ represented.

My vision tunnels to a small, two-person table a few yards away, by the gray windows, where a striking, mesmerizing figure sits hunched over a coffee mug. Despite his weary posture, he's a lone ray of sun amid the rich, verdant backdrop. He eclipses all conversations within the cafeteria and all nature without.

Dad was right; his hair is a chaotic mess of dark and light copper spikes. I can't see his eyes from here, but I can tell he's glaring at the mug on the table, his brow furrowed, and his hand gripping that mug so tightly that his knuckles protrude sharply. When he rakes his free hand through that mess of hair, my heart both clenches and soars.

No, I'm still not one-hundred-percent sure why he's here; though perhaps I should be. Perhaps it's as clear as a sunny, Caribbean day. But I can't….I won't take him or this wonderful thing we've found in one another for granted. More than that, as I make my way toward him, I refuse to wait another three years, another three months, another three weeks, hell another three minutes to tell him to the truth of my feelings, regardless of how quickly they developed.

As if he senses my approach, Edward turns sharply in my direction just as I shout out his name.

"Edward!"

When his eyes meet mine, for one long moment, we both remain still. His shoulders rise and fall…rise and fall, yet even as he slowly gets to his feet, his intense gaze refuses to release me. Only vaguely do I note the plain jeans and wrinkled white tee shirt he wears – my usually sharp dresser. He still looks amazing.

When he's on his feet, he digs his hands in his pockets, and with a deep breath, he takes a step forward.

"Wait!" I hold up a hand, palm out.

With a bewildered frown, Edward stops.

There are about three tables still separating us; two are empty, but the one in the middle holds a group of three women in about their mid-forties who were chatting away before I yelled. Now, out of the corner of my eye, I remotely note their eyes flashing back and forth between Edward and me.

"Wait, let me get this out because I don't know if…and I want to make sure I don't miss my opportunity."

"Bella, I won't-"

"It wasn't just sex for me!"

I suppose when you shout such a statement across a crowded cafeteria, you should expect the gasps, the wide eyes, and the cafeteria's buzzing to cease. But they're all peripheral distractions. My true focus is on the sea-green eyes before me. No other diversions or interruptions can reach me at that moment. All that matters in the Universe are Edward and me, and the feelings I've wanted to share…I _should've_ shared earlier.

"It wasn't just sex for me, Edward."

He takes another step forward. "Bella-"

"When I first met you on that seven-day cruise, yes, I was physically attracted to you; I won't lie and pretend I wasn't. I mean, look at you." I flourish a hand toward him.

As one, the group of women sweep their eyes toward him.

"You're tall and well-built. You've got great hair and gorgeous eyes, and a great damn jaw."

"He does, yes," one of the women says as all three look at one another and agree with vigorous nods.

"Bella-"

"From the moment we shared our first dance and your hands curved around my hips, your touch seared my skin, Edward. From that moment on, all I wanted was more and more of it…more and more of _you_," I breathe.

"Oh, my," one of the women exclaims, placing a hand against her chest.

Edward just stares at me, mouth agape.

"Then, we spent our first full day at sea together, and I found that you were more than physically attractive. You were intelligent and fun and funny…"

"In addition to the good looks? Oh, my."

"…and then we slept together that night-"

"Oh, my!"

"But we didn't _actually_ sleep together," I smile.

"Oh," someone exclaims, sounding disappointed.

Edward grins sheepishly. "Bella-"

"Because you wouldn't sleep with me while I had a boyfriend-"

"Wait, she had a boyfriend?"

"-so then I learned to add 'Honorable' to the list, which isn't a characteristic easily found nowadays, Edward-"

"She's right; it's not."

"But Bella, _I_ found that and much-" he begins, but I'm not done.

"-especially not when you think you're about to embark on a shipboard hookup. Then, the next day, I added more to your list of virtues: patient, adventurous, generous, kind to the elderly."

"Aww," the women say in unison.

"And then I broke up with Quil, and you and I had sex."

"Oh. my."

"Wait, who's keeping track; what day of the cruise was this?"

"And it was…the best sex," I stress, "the toe-curling kind of sex, the _mind-blowing_ kind of sex."

"Oh…"

"…my…

Here, Edward chuckles and drops his head.

"So, I added 'Amazing Lover' to the list. And then the next day on the yacht and on St. Maarten-"

"A yacht?"

"_And_ St. Maarten!"

"-I got a mere hint of your musical talent, and every ensuing day on that cruise I learned more and more about you – your strength, your thoughtfulness, your attention to detail-"

"Damn. What more can a woman ask for?"

"-and throughout it all, the sex just got better and better-"

"That."

"-but Edward," I rush out breathlessly, "I'd already convinced myself it was only temporary."

"Bella, I should've-"

"I convinced myself it was only a hook-up, that it was only about the great sex, and I could blame my shortsightedness on the fact that we had sex so quickly; I could blame it on my fears about my mother's health or on the fact that we never stopped long enough to discuss the future-"

"Jesus, she's killing me."

"Bella, please, let me at least take full res-"

"Just one more thing, Edward, please," I plead, "and then I promise you can say everything you came all this way to say."

Drawing in a deep breath, Edward nods. The cafeteria falls completely silent.

"A couple of months ago, my mom and I were having one of our talks – I've told you about our talks."

Again, he nods.

"She told me that when you've had the right kind of sex, the _best_ kind of sex, it makes you want to shout about it from the rooftops," I smile.

Edward grins, and everyone around us chuckles.

"You want to have it everywhere and all the time," I continue, "and you hope that everyone around you is having the same kind of sex-"

"Girl, we're not all that lucky."

"-but it's more than that."

The reveling chucklers around us quiet down and physically strain forward to listen.

Edward is still and focused. "What else did she tell you, Bella?" he murmurs.

"She told me that it's more than the amazing sex that makes you respond so dramatically to someone. It's the shared passion, Edward." The words erupt in a strangled whisper, and as I smile, I subconsciously rest my joined hands over my heart. "It's the knowledge that _somehow_ you clicked with that someone from the very beginning. Even more than all that, it's the work you put in to ensure that you always keep that passion alive because the work itself isn't even really work at all."

"It's sex," one of the women says.

"And it's not denying it because it happened so quickly. And that one," I grin, "I got more from what my dad always says: '_When you know_-'"

"'_You just know_,' damn it." Edward rushes forward at the same time that he completes the phrase for me, and when he cages my face between his hands, our cafeteria audience gasps as one.

"I knew, Edward," I spout rapidly because his eyes move restlessly between my eyes and my mouth, and I know I don't have much time. "I knew, and I'm so sorry I denied it to myself, and I'm sorry I was so horrible to you a couple of days ago, and I'm so grateful for what you did for me, and I'm grateful that you came to-"

"Shut up." He grins crookedly, sea-green eyes back on mine. "Just stop apologizing." His hold tightens. "And stop talking. You had me at 'it was more than sex.'"

I chuckle heartily, and when he wraps his arms around my waist and lifts me off the floor, I slide my arms around his broad shoulders. Our eyes hold for a moment longer, both of us aware that it's a moment we'll never forget. And as our mouths come together, we exhale in relief, our breaths mingling, lips tasting tenderly then more urgently as our mouths open for our tongues. Because we're _both_ full of passion _and_ lust for one another, and that's more than just okay…it's perfect.

And all around us, the Forks' Hospital Cafeteria fills with applause and catcalls.

"Wait a minute…I think I recognize him. Isn't he Edward Masen, that young, hot music producer?"

"Oh my God, I think you're right. Quick, where's my phone?"

When we finally pull apart for air, we gaze at one another like two people who just won the lottery - or a trip on a Caribbean cruise.

"May I say now," - he brushes his lips against my nose - "what I came to say?"

I nod, laughing.

"I love you, Bella."

My heart feels close to bursting. "Okay. And by the way, all of that was a roundabout way of saying that I've fallen in love with you too, Edward."

"Good. I'm glad," he smirks. "Because I've been there since Day One of the cruise. Hey, when you know," he shrugs, "you know. And Bella...I _should've_ said it sooner."

"It's okay. I think we did well. It only took us seven days…and we've still got tonight…"

Chuckling, he brushes his lips against my forehead…then my nose again…and then he returns to my mouth.

"Holy hell, we need to find out what cruise line she went on and book ourselves on the next sailing."

* * *

**A/N: Thoughts?**

**Facebook: Stories by PattyRose**

**Twitter: PattyRosa817**

***Epilogue coming up next.* :)**

**Stay safe, my loves. **


	19. Seven Nights - Epilogue

**A/N: Thanks so much for all your wonderful thoughts.**

**Hope you're all staying safe and healthy. We're a little stir crazy around here, but we're making the best of it. Writing definitely helps. I hope reading this little cruise ship tale, set in a world where there was never a virus running rampant onboard cruise ships or anywhere else for that matter, has helped to keep you guys entertained as well. :)**

**This is marked 'Complete.'**

**BUT, I've got something else coming up soon, to see if we can all stave off the shakes that come being home so damn much, lol. It's not the story I'd originally planned to be the follow-up to this story. That one was going to be very angsty, and as much as I love angst, I feel like nowadays, at least for the time being, something a little more lighthearted might suit better. **

**The title to the new story is after the closing A/N ;)**

**Anyway, here we go. **

**Most characters belong to S. Meyer. The rest belong to me. All mistakes are mine as well.**

* * *

**Seven Nights – Epilogue**

**On the Seventh Day of Another Cruise…**

Edward holds my hips firmly between his strong hands. He guides me up and down, alternating between slow, tender thrusts and driving in fast and hard. He fills me, makes me throw my head back and cry out, then he picks me up and leaves me empty, making me whimper – before he slams me back down.

It's maddening. Bewildering. I'm breathless, heart pounding so hard I'm sure it'll give out at any moment. But what a way to go.

We've been vacillating between tender lovemaking and honest to goodness fucking for the past…I have no idea how long. As usual, Time, along with everything else, ceased to exist the moment Edward pushed himself inside me.

"Edward…" I breathe.

Arching my back, I tangle my fingers behind his damp neck and wrap my legs around his slender waist, clinging to him as he bobs me up and down.

"What, Bella? What? What do you want? _Tell me_," he commands.

His mouth puckers around one breast, pulling my nipple and swirling his tongue before he skims, open-mouthed, to the other, intense heat following the path his mouth takes.

"Tell me," he whispers against my skin.

"I don't want you to stop. Ever. Don't _ever_ stop. So good. So, so _fuck_…" I choke.

He chuckles hoarsely, the sound reverberating between our bodies and concentrating itself where we're joined.

"Well, I don't know if I can promise _never_ to stop."

"Please…please…yes…_yesss_…"

"Like this?"

"Just like that…don't stop…don't stop…"

I beg shamelessly, plead, and whimper while he bounces me over him.

Because there has _never_ been shame between Edward and me, that was one of the first signs of the rightness of us. There was no shame the first time we made love and certainly not now. So when he pulls me off of him and lays me across the large, California-King bed, I expel a cry of protest. My bare chest heaves. My body quivers. I fist the sheets and squirm, seeking friction.

"Edward…don't stop."

Again, he chuckles, kneeling in front of me, his arms, chest, and legs glistening with perspiration, palms resting on his muscular thighs. I lick my lips as I gaze at him.

"God, you look so delicious. And you're so hard, Edward. _Please_."

A crooked grin lifts up one corner of his mouth, which just adds to the perfection of the erotic picture before me.

"Jesus, Bella, these days you're just so…"

"Horny?" I grin.

"And you look so good moving like that. Touch yourself, baby. Lemme see."

I do as he says and arch my back, pretending it's his hand where mine is, even as I watch him watch me through dark, lust-filled eyes. He wraps a hand around himself and pumps up and down.

"So beautiful," he breathes.

"Liar," I chuckle, running my free hand over my stomach.

Edward shakes his head languidly. "I'm not lying. Not at all. Now drop your legs and spread them wide so I can…yeah. Yeah, just like that."

He leans forward, and with his hands splayed against my knees, he holds me open while the wet heat of his tongue skims higher…higher…I shut my eyes, waiting…

My hips buck against his mouth, and he curves his hands around me, holding me. My mouth falls open in silent gratitude. For one long, beautiful moment, I'm so lightheaded I'm sure I'm floating.

Then he drives back in.

"When you come," he hisses, hips moving in quick, rhythmic thrusts, our friction audible, "tell me how much you love me. I promise I won't get mad."

I chuckle hoarsely at his teasing. "Make it really good, Mr. Masen, and I'll say whatever you want me to say."

He quirks a brow. "Oh, really?"

We're very sexual, Edward and I; yeah, we are. And I've more than accepted, I've embraced it. I welcome the never-ending lust between us, this _want_ that's never fully sated. We don't deny our shared passion, and we refuse to allow it to dwindle.

Nonetheless, mind-blowing sex isn't the only thing between us. There's so much more. There are never-ending conversations and shared moments and shared laughter and shared interests and shared happy days and shared sad days and fights and makeups and a desire to support one another through everything and…and always awe for one another that hasn't diminished one iota.

So, as my wise mom once said, the great damn sex is simply a byproduct of everything else, a confirmation of the rightness of us. Because when you know-

Jesus, he's in so damn deep that I can no longer think. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I know exactly how that thought ends, but right now, I can't focus on it.

"So damn beautiful and fresh and sweet…" he murmurs, punctuating each one of my supposed virtues with a roll of his hips. His sea-green eyes are dark and intense. They hold mine unrelentingly, pumping me so damn good…so damn good that the coil inside me he's been tightening with every advance and retreat is ready to snap.

"Edward…Edward…I'm almost…"

"I know, baby. I can feel you so…_mph_," he grunts, kissing me hard and caging my face between his hands. "I love you so much, Bella. So damn much. And when you come…" he hisses against my mouth, "when you come, I want to hear you yell it so loud…so fucking loud," he grits.

Between his actions and his words, the coil snaps. My eyes squeeze shut as a strangled sound escapes me. All the while, Edward's hips rock…and rock…and I open my mouth to scream-

A series of three knocks land against the cabin door.

"Bella?"

Edward's urgent tempo instantly ceases.

"Bella, honey, are you awake?"

Dark, hooded, and lust-filled eyes now round in horror. After two seconds of confusion, I reply in a strangled voice.

"Uh, yeah, Dad! I was just getting ready to…getting ready to get up?"

"Oh, okay. Just wanted to let you know we're all up on deck."

With a wicked grin, Edward resumes his thrusts, whispering in my ear.

"Liar. That's not what you were getting ready to do."

"Stop," I breathe weakly, though by digging the heels of my feet deeper into his bare ass, I suppose I'm negating that specific plea. _"Stop," _I grin.

"No way am I leaving you half-finished, no matter who's at the door." Slipping an arm under my back, Edward lifts me and pulls me against his chest, wrapping his other arm around my bottom so that with his next thrust, he holds me prone against his entire body.

"Bella?"

Squeezing my eyes shut, I ignore the voice at the other side of the door.

"Bells?"

Edward keeps right on rocking his hips.

"Everything okay, Bells? You need me to get Edward?"

"No…no…"

And when Edward groans long and hard and buries his face against my neck, I hold him just as tightly.

"That's right, baby," I breathe in his ear. "That's right."

"Bells, everything okay?" My dad sounds alarmed now.

"Yeah, Dad! I'm just…stretching."

A couple of minutes later, Edward draws in a deep breath and loosens his hold on me. He offers me an amused look.

"Stretching?"

"What was I supposed to say? Dad, go away; Edward and I are _coming_?"

He snorts and lowers me back on the bed with unnecessary caution, then supports most of his weight on his elbows.

"If the previous half-hour didn't break me, the weight of your body won't," I say as I pull him over me and force his elbows to fold.

He chuckles as he complies – though I can tell he's still holding off some of his weight. Then, he kisses me softly, tender brushes of his lips wherever they find me.

"Hey, do you think it was important, whatever Dad needed?" I wonder.

"No," he whispers. "No."

"But what if-"

"It wasn't important, my love. Everything's fine. Everything's…"

He sighs and rests his head on my chest, and I coil my fingers around the damp hairs at the nape of his neck. When my eyes fall to the nightstand beside us, a tired yet blissfully happy smile spreads across my face as my gaze rests on a picture.

"…perfect," Edward finishes.

The picture is a framed eight by ten of a couple who'd met less than seventy-hours earlier; they run hand in hand through a cruise ship, grinning impishly at one another, gazing at each other in open wonder, yet completely unaware that they were on their way to more than sex.

They were on their way to forever.

"Yeah. Perfect," I echo.

Then I drift off for a few minutes.

OOOOO

About a half-hour later, we emerge hand in hand up on deck in the type of cruise gear I'll always associate with our first cruise together. Edward wears a white polo with a tiny blue polo player on his chest and blue Bermuda shorts with a pattern of minuscule white whales all over. My sharp dresser. In turn, I wear a two-piece, yellow swimsuit with a sarong the color of the Caribbean sea tied around my neck. It floats around my thighs like a soft wave. The golden sun shines brightly in the celeste skies, its rays reflecting off the boat's pristine, wooden deck. The sea is calm and laps gently against the boat's hull. There are so many similarities to that first cruise.

Yet, instead of a calypso or reggae band, the music emanating from the speakers in the background is that of a different artist, an artist who's added three Grammy's, two MTV Music Awards, and a few other odds and ends to his collection since that fateful cruise.

Instead of a large cruise ship, we're sailing the Caribbean on a yacht – similar to the one which Edward lent his music partner, Tyler Crowley, during that previous cruise and that Tyler sailed to St. Maarten, but this one is bigger. On that previous cruise, Edward hesitated to tell me the yacht was his because he feared my knowledge of what a celebrity he already was would've made me tuck tail and run.

It may have; I was pretty skittish back then.

Instead of Edward's stolen shades, I'm wearing my own pair. Edward had them custom-made for me for our six-month anniversary, using the sea-glass we once found on a tiny island as the frame. I'd flown down to Miami for that anniversary; it was my second visit to him compared to about his sixth visit up to Washington to see me. But he knew…he understood it was still hard for me to leave Washington.

And instead of a cruise ship full of strangers and a few friends, this yacht is full to the brim with those who are most important to us. At the moment, more than a few of them are gathered around the large breakfast table at the stern of the boat. Their boisterous voices are raised in shared laughter around about twenty different, raucous conversations.

For a brief moment, Edward and I simply stop and stare, but they notice us pretty quickly. Alone time is pretty precious time nowadays.

"Look, Renee! There are Mommy and Daddy!"

But so are all other times.

"Mama! Dada!"

Perched in the arms of her grandmother Liz, Edward's mom, our two-year-old daughter reaches out for us.

"There's my little beauty," I hear Edward murmur beside me.

Meanwhile, I call out, "Renee!" and a wide grin spreads across my face.

"Careful, babe. Don't slip," Edward chuckles, holding onto my hand as I rush forward.

When we reach our daughter, Edward takes her from his mom and lifts her high up so that she reaches her arms to the celeste skies, and the sun captures all the copper highlights in her wavy hair. Her sea-green eyes sparkle. All the while, her giggles fill my heart. When Edward carefully sets her back down between us, he pulls us _both_ tightly against his chest.

"My two girls."

Before we got here, there were adjustments Edward and I made to accommodate our relationship. At first, I was terrified about leaving my mom for more than a few days. Edward was extremely understanding and supportive. He was Selfless – yet another virtue of his.

Yes, with a talent that's pretty much portable, he made many of those first trips up to Forks. He set up a studio right in Forks and created his beats from there. In between, we'd hike the Olympic Mountains, camp under the stars, and help manage my parents' tourism company.

But no matter what, he still had his commitments in Miami…sometimes in New York, in L.A., and in many other places. Little by little, I began joining him on some of those commitments. And a year later, we took our second cruise together, just him and me.

So, for that first couple of years, as Edward's career soared even higher, and my parents' business grew as well, Edward and I flew back and forth across coasts. It wasn't always easy, though I won't deny that Edward's financial status removed one obstacle.

But despite any hardship, despite the distance, we knew we were it for one another.

And so one day, four years after that fateful mega cruise, Edward and I boarded a smaller, much more private boat and vowed one another forever. Any coast-to-coast flying we did afterward, we did together.

A couple of years after that, Renee Elizabeth Masen came along to slow us down for a bit…and enrich our lives all the more.

Edward's parents approach us.

"Did you get some rest, Bella?"

"Yeah, Mom." I offer my mother-in-law, an amazing woman, a soft smile. "Thanks for watching Renee."

"She's an angel," Edward's sweetheart of a dad, Ed. Sr, says.

"She really is," Liz agrees.

A peal of musical laughter rings out from behind Liz. It instinctively makes me grin because I know that sound, and I know a teasing comment will follow. And I also grin because I'll never take hearing that voice for granted.

"I'm sorry, Bella, but while I love my granddaughter with my entire heart and soul, your daughter's a little devil, just like you were at that age."

"Like her grandmother still is," my dad says. He wraps an arm around my mom's shoulders and leans in to whisper in her ear, but whether purposely or not, he doesn't quite whisper low enough. "In bed."

"Ugh, Dad," I shriek. "There are children present!"

Everyone laughs.

"Like both her grandmothers then," Ed. Sr. adds, kissing his wife's cheek.

"Mom, Pop, great," Edward smirks playfully at my parents. "Now you've got my parents doing it."

"Edward, honey, your dad and I were doing it long before we met Charlie and Renee. How do you think we created you and your brother?" Liz quips.

Everyone roars, while I pretend to dry heave, and Edward squeezes his eyes shut, chuckling under his breath.

"Mom, Dad, Charlie, and Renee! We're gonna throw up all our breakfast over here if you all don't quit it over there! I for one don't need to know about all the weird things that came together when ya'll made my husband!"

Garrett's booming voice carries from the table, and Emmett laughs heartily, kissing his husband. They both turn and kiss the cheek of their four-year-old son, Benny, who sits happily between them.

"Don't worry, Benny," Emmett grins, "Daddy and Daddy will never embarrass you with those weird, straight type of stories!"

"_All_ our poor kids are going to be scarred," Pete grins.

"No, they're not," Charlotte smiles, chasing after her own three-year-old son. In the past few years, she's become one of my very best friends. "No more than the rest of us, and I think we all turned out pretty okay."

For a brief moment, my mind wanders to the rest of the group on that first cruise.

We still hang out with Carmen and Eli, though they're nowhere near as close to us as are Pete and Charlotte.

Irina?

Edward cut off his 'friendship' with Irina as soon as he debarked that cruise ship. Unfortunately, it took a few unanswered texts from her to him, where she claimed she wanted to rebuild their 'special friendship,' before she finally gave up. Last I heard, she was married to someone or some such.

Quil…well, Edward once accidentally mentioned he'd "bumped" into Quil at the airport the morning he flew to Washington to meet me after my mom got sick. He swears, while grinning, that he said nothing to Quil, but Quil never approached me or texted me again. Neither did Leah or Jake. Jake and Leah live in town somewhere. Quil doesn't.

"Our kids are going to be as happy and well-adjusted as we are," my mom says softly.

And as if to prove her grandmother's point, our innocent daughter places one sweet palm on either side of her father's and my cheeks.

"Granpas, Granmas, funny?"

"Yes, baby," Edward chuckles, picking up Ren's hand and kissing her palm. "Your grandmas and grandpas are _hilariou_s."

"Aww, Edward honey," my mom says, grinning impishly at her son-in-law, "don't think we don't know what was just going on back in that cabin. You two never quit!"

"Try telling Pop that," Edward says.

"I honestly thought she was napping," my dad says. "And I thought you, Edward, were being a responsible captain and manning the boat."

"He was manning something, alright," Liz says.

By the time we're done laughing, I'm holding my stomach from the force of my chortles.

"What? What is it? What did we miss?"

Yet another one of my favorite voices approaches. No longer young, it's made somewhat gravelly and raspy by age, but I'll treasure it for as long as I can.

"Will you all stop foolin' around and be careful with that girlie there?"

This voice is a lot crabbier; even grumpy some might say, but it still means the world to both Edward and me.

"Why, just look at how all your shenanigans got her holdin' that stomach a' hers!"

Jasper shuffles slowly toward us, supported by his cane on one side and by Alice on his other. In their late eighties, they're both still as youthful and strong as can be expected. Sometimes, when I look at them, I imagine the vibrant revolutionaries they were in their youth…and I picture Edward and me like them, a few decades from now.

"Oh, sweet Bella's just fine, Jasper," Alice says, patting his arm.

"I really am, Jasper," I assure him with a smile.

"Hmph," he says in his usual, adorably ornery manner. Yet, when he smiles up at little Renee and pinches her cheek between his liver-spotted fingers, as gently as if he were pinching air, our daughter claps her hands happily.

"Nanny Ally and Pop-pop Jassy funny too!"

"Yes, they are," Edward agrees.

"Hmph," Jasper scowls. "Talkin' all that nonsense in front of this little angel."

"She's fine, Jasper," Alice reassures him yet again.

"You said Bella was fine," Jasper grumbles.

"Both Bella _and_ little Renee are fine is what I'm saying."

"Well stop sayin' is what I'm sayin'!"

"You okay, Bella?" Edward asks, needlessly concerned, once again, at my silence.

"I'm fine, Edward." Sighing, I meet his gaze. "I'm just fine."

Because there are few ways life could get better.

OOOOO

Later that evening, after we've shared a full day of fun and sun aboard the _'Isabella,'_ and a few of us are at the bow of the boat, and a few are at the stern, and a few are just hanging out below deck, and our little Renee is safely tucked into bed and being watched over by one set or another of her three sets of indulgent grandparents, Edward takes my hand and guides me to the port-side of the yacht. There's a ladder leading up to a small, private deck. He curves his hands around my hips, helping me, protecting me as I ascend.

"Careful, Bella, okay? Slow down."

I chuckle. "Edward, I've got it. It's not my first time up here. And you weren't asking me to slow down when you were taking me hard- ouch!" I yelp, laughing when he smacks my behind.

When we're up top, he leads me to the railing and stands behind me. Then, he slides his arms around my waist and pulls me against him so that his chest hugs my spine. His thumbs stroke my stomach languidly, mouth brushing back and forth against my temple. For a long while, we silently gaze up at the milky stars above us.

The yacht's speakers softly play a tune; it's a beautiful one, my favorite one in the world actually, a perfect one made up of a melodious harmony of sounds that Edward once confessed was his unique way of seeing my soul.

It won a Grammy.

"We'll be at St. Thomas the next day, then St. Maarten the next, and Puerto Rico after that."

"Almost like recreating that first cruise." Sighing, I look out onto the sparkling, ebony waters before us. "Thank you, babe, for taking the time off for this trip."

"Bella, I know it took a lot of work to convince your parents to leave the tour business in Sam and Emily Uley's hands for a few weeks."

"Yeah, but I trust them."

"Me too."

The Uleys are a couple in their forties, who we hired a couple of years ago to help with my parents' expanding business. They've proven to be a godsend. With my mom's health so much better for the past couple of years, my parents have finally been able to do a lot of the things they put on hold while I was growing up and then afterward when Mom got sick.

"I can't wait to show the islands to my mom. She's so excited."

My husband's warm breath raises goosebumps along my neck and down my spine despite the evening's warmth, despite the time that's passed.

"And so am I." He splays his large hands across my stomach, stroking the round bump that's just beginning to show. "Pretty soon, we'll have to take it easy again."

"If it were up to you," I snort, "I'd be taking it easy already even though I'm not even five months along yet. And 'We'll have to take it easy again' is too many people. While I'll have to stop my hiking and exploring in a few months, you'll keep attending all your award shows and-"

"And I'll proudly bring my pregnant wife with me, just as I always do."

"Your _hugely-_pregnant-by-then wife."

"My _hugely-_pregnant-by-then wife," he echoes.

"Ass," I say, making him laugh. "By the way, you're going to have to change the name of this here yacht soon. You can call it 'Renee Elizabeth' or-"

"Nope; not changing the name of this boat. I'll buy another one first. Bella, you were supposed to say something earlier when we were making love; actually, you were supposed to shout it out as if you were on a rooftop," he teases. "You were supposed to-"

I turn in Edward's arms and gaze into his eyes. The teasing expression on his handsome face disappears. He swallows thickly.

We don't say the actual words on the daily. We're more the 'show one another on the daily' type.

"I love you too, Edward, so, so much. It's love and passion and lust and..."

He chuckles softly, cradling my stomach. "I know, Bella. Just as you know that you and Ren and this other life we've created-"

"You mean Baby Jasper."

"Or Baby Alice – the three of you are...that seven-night cruise was…"

"A seven-night cruise which ended up only being five-nights," I interrupt again.

His sea-green eyes bore into mine. "We didn't need seven nights to know."

"Because when you know…"

He doesn't finish it, and neither do I. Sometimes, words are both insufficient and superfluous. Instead, I lift myself on my toes and cover his mouth with mine, and for one long moment, our mouths meld together. Our breaths become one.

And then, Edward pulls me against his side, and together, we gaze out at the Caribbean that started it all.

* * *

THE END

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